


Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom-Com: 2nd Edition

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Federal Agents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Sweethearts, Emma as a federal marshall, F/M, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major character death - Freeform, Movie AU, Peril, Single Parent AU, adventures in babysitting, college Killian, high school Emma, murder investigation, mutlitple major character deaths . . ., soul mates, the fugitive - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 48,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: This is my second collection of Captain Swan Movie AUs. Not all will be rom-coms, that's just a cute title ;) Up first: The Fugitive (ch1-6) and Adventures in Babysitting (ch 7-11). Then Twister (ch. 12-19). For Christmas: Sleepless in Seattle (ch. 20-22). Priceless:ch 23-





	1. The Fugitive: Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Check out tumblr where several other fanfic writers have joined me to do movie aus this summer. Search the tag #csromcom18

              Emma Swan stood at the top of the ravine, her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed as she took in the search dogs sniffing around the wreckage of a prison bus twisted like a pretzel around the front of a freight train. She catalogued a dozen different ways the local police had already screwed this one up. The sheriff next to her was a cliché of the biggest proportions: pot-bellied, with a big gray mustache and a scoff on his face that said he didn’t believe someone like her – blonde, slight of build, female, attractive – could actually be a US marshal. Emma tapped at the top of the slender holster that held her gun, her mind spinning, completely ignoring everything the country bumpkin of a sheriff was saying.

              “This is what we’re going to do,” she said, cutting him off mid-sentence, “call off the helicopters, call of the dogs –“

              “Wait a second, how are we-,” he tried to interrupt.

              Emma lifted a decisive hand as she turned and strode back up the hill. “Sheriff, you’ve just alerted our fugitive that we’re looking for him. You’ve sent him running; hiding. We want him to relax, think he’s gotten away with it.” The man opened his mouth to speak again, but Emma just grinned and slapped him on his flabby arm. “I’m relieving you of your duties.”

              She then walked purposefully towards her team who were already setting up a temporary base of operations. She barked orders: to Mary Margaret as she set up her computer equipment, to David who was organizing the police force into search teams, to Graham who was on the phone with neighboring police departments, and finally to Ruby who she sent for an extra-large hot chocolate. (So maybe her intern scowled at that final request, but someone had to be the newbie.) Emma bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from grinning at all the activity. She was already known as the best tracker in the department: Emma Swan always got her man. But this?

              When she brought in fugitive Killian Jones, she would be a legend.

                            **********************************************************

              Emma grasped the console of the pickup with a tight-knuckled grip as David took a tight turn. Killian Jones had been spotted at a local hospital, then stolen an ambulance, of all things. Emma was elated. The hospital reported finding dirty bandages, stitching thread, and a used syringe in a bathroom. That meant Killian Jones was injured, and though he might be a world-renowned surgeon (in another life, anyway), those injuries would slow him down.

              “There, there!” Emma shouted, pointing.

              The stolen ambulance turned onto a gravel road that led to a water treatment plant. David jerked the wheel, almost going up on two wheels to make pursuit. The truck fish-tailed slightly, giving the ambulance a bit of a lead. This was another good sign, however. Jones didn’t seem to have a plan; he was desperate.

              Of course, the prospect of death row for first degree murder would do that to a person.

              The story of Killian Jones and the murder of his wife, Milah, had been in the news for a full year before it finally went to trial. The world was simultaneously horrified and intrigued by the idea of a wealthy, respectable surgeon being capable of such a cold-blooded act. Milah Jones had died in her sexy lingerie, strangled, with her head bashed in. He swore he was innocent, of course, but didn’t they all? What made the story even crazier was Dr. Jones’s assertion that he had caught his wife’s killer still in the house, wrestled and fought with the man. A one-armed man. Emma had snorted when she heard the story. If he was going to make something up, he could at least make it sound believable.

              Mary Margaret’s voice came over the walkie-talkie. “Graham, take a left and you’ll cut him off.”

              “Copy,” Graham’s voice came through, static crackling.

              Sure enough, the jeep Graham was driving came bursting out onto the road from the left. The ambulance jerked, sliding sideways across the gravel. Before it even fully came to a stop, the driver’s door flew open, and Killian Jones tumbled out. He got to his feet more lithely than Emma would have expected and took off for the treatment plant.

              Emma yelled for David to stop, and jumped out of the vehicle as soon as it slowed down.

              “What the hell, Emma?” David yelled after her.

              She ignored him, taking off at top speed. Graham and Ruby leapt from the jeep to join her. David wasn’t far behind. They all pulled their guns as they faced the options in front of them: three huge drain pipes that led in different directions.

              “We split up,” Emma said, “Ruby, you’re with me. We don’t shoot unless absolutely necessary, and then only to incapacitate. Got it?”

              Everyone nodded as they went their separate ways. She and Ruby hadn’t gotten far when Emma heard the splashing of water echoing around them. Killian Jones was definitely in this pipe. Emma turned to Ruby and nodded her head slowly. Ruby nodded back.

              “Killian Jones!” Emma called out. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”

              The pipe turned sharply, and suddenly a dark figure came swinging down from the electrical wires above. His feet connected with Emma’s shoulder, sending her sprawling to her back in the shallow water. She heard a gun shot, but Ruby must have been spooked, because her aim went wide. The bullet ricocheted off the metal sides of the pipe, and Emma had to roll to her stomach to avoid the bullet. Meanwhile, Killian Jones had sprinted ahead.

              “Damn it, Ruby!” Emma snapped as she scrambled to her feet.

              “I’m sorry!”

              The pipe branched off again, and Emma motioned irritably for Ruby to take the one to the right while she took the left. Emma had only gone a few feet when she saw him; silhouetted against the opening of the pipe. The water spilled over the edge and into the reservoir below with a thunderous roar.

              “Killian Jones!” Emma shouted. “Hands where I can see them!”

              The man lifted his hands, which shook slightly.

              “Turn around, slowly!”

              Emma Swan had seen many wanted men during her time as a marshal. She had seen the looks on their faces: arrogant, terrified, rebellious, uncaring. She saw none of these things in the face of Killian Jones. His head was bowed low, and he looked up at her beneath impossibly long lashes. His eyes were a bright sparkling blue, reflecting the water at his feet. She had read in the papers that he was handsome, but the pictures always showed him with unkempt hair and a long, bushy beard. As if he’d stopped caring long ago. The man before her now had trimmed the beard to mere scruff, and given himself a haircut. Emma vaguely recalled the hospital saying the sink had been full of dark hair.

              But it wasn’t his good looks that had Emma unconsciously lowering her gun. It was the look in those eyes: a pleading look.

              “I didn’t kill my wife,” he told her.

              Emma blinked. She had a special talent; her team called it her super power. She could tell when people were lying. And Killian Jones was not lying. But guilt and innocence wasn’t Emma’s job. She lifted her gun and cocked it.

              “I don’t care,” she snapped, a bit of sarcasm dripping into her words.

              Killian Jones actually _smirked_ at her, then shuffled backwards a bit, glancing over his shoulder. Emma’s eyes widened.

              “Don’t you dare!” she shouted, stepping closer. He held her gaze as he inched closer to the edge. “Damn it, Jones, I don’t want to shoot you!”

              He had the audacity to wink before launching himself over the edge. Emma gasped and raced forward to look down into the pounding water. The mist was too thick to see anything, and she blinked against the moisture assaulting her eyes. Emma pounded her fist into the metal wall.

              Why hadn’t she taken the shot?

             

 


	2. The Fugitive: Part Two

              Emma stared blankly at her computer screen, gnawing on a ballpoint pen. The little cursor blinked at her mockingly. She was supposed to be finishing up the paperwork on the Killian Jones case, but she just couldn’t seem to motivate herself. For one, she didn’t consider the case closed at all. Everyone assumed Jones had chosen to jump to his death rather than face death row, but a body hadn’t been recovered. All of Emma’s training told her that without a body, the case was still open. Her superiors thought she had lost her mind. No one, they argued, could possibly survive that jump. Even the director of the water treatment plant agreed. Yet Emma’s gut told her that Killian Jones was still alive, which meant she couldn’t just let the case go.

              In moments of brutal honesty, she could also admit she was haunted by those blue eyes. The way they pleaded with her when he said _I didn’t kill my wife._ Emma had confided in Mary Margaret, who had noticed something was off about her lately. And bless her heart, the ever hopeful brunette had been helping Emma look further into the murder case of Milah Jones. If her superiors found out, they would probably be pissed. They were already on her about finishing the paperwork so they could officially close the case.

              The phone on Emma’s desk rang, and she reached for it with a tired sigh. “US Marshals headquarters, Agent Emma Swan speaking.”

              “You believed me, didn’t you?”

              Emma bit back a gasp and leapt abruptly to her feet at the British accent coming across the line. “Uh, who is this?” she stalled as she started gesturing frantically to her team, pointing at her phone and mouthing _it’s him_!

              “Don’t be coy, Ms. Swan, you know exactly who this is.”

              Emma wet her lip, forcing her voice to sound casual even as she frantically jabbed her finger for Mary Margaret to start tracing the call. “Well, I meet a lot of men in my line of work.”

              “And draw your gun on them?”

              “Actually, yes.” The man actually chuckled, and Emma couldn’t help thinking that their conversation was bordering on flirtatious. But it wasn’t the sinister type of cat and mouse game of seduction that she was used to, meant to make her feel vulnerable and exposed. There was a sincerity to this man that made no sense whatsoever.

              “I’m assuming you all thought I didn’t survive that fall,” he continued almost casually, “since I’ve been able to go about my own investigation without any mishap.”

              “Investigation?” Emma was still trying to drag out the conversation. Graham gave a thumbs-up that it was being recorded. Mary Margaret gave her a frantic circling motion with her finger, letting her know she hadn’t yet traced the call.

              “I told you that I didn’t kill my wife,” Killian continued, “and I could tell you believed me, despite your dripping sarcasm.”

              “It doesn’t matter what I believe, my job is to bring you in. A court of law found you guilty, Mr. Jones, and you escaped from a prison bus.”

              “I was presumed guilty long before the trial. The man who killed my wife is still out there, and I plan on seeing her death avenged.”

              Emma glanced at Mary Margaret, who shook her head. “So what’s the purpose of this phone call?”

              “I think you want justice done as much as I do. So I’ll leave you with a name – Edward Teach.”

              Then the phone went dead. Emma looked hopefully at Mary Margaret, who slumped in her desk chair. “He hung up before I could pinpoint his location.”

“Damn it!” Emma swore, slamming the receiver down into its cradle.

              “Well,” Ruby quipped, “at least you never closed out that paperwork.”

                            *******************************************************

              Emma paced in the conference room while Graham played the tape of her conversation with Killian over and over again. Mary Margaret was searching the name Edward Teach, but found 95 in the continental US, and was trying to narrow them down.

              “I don’t get it,” David said, “he was assumed dead. Why call us?”

              “That’s easy,” Emma replied, “he wants us to help him solve his wife’s murder.”

              Graham snorted a laugh. “They already solved it and found him guilty.”

              Emma exchanged a glance with Mary Margaret. “Actually,” the computer tech said tentatively, “Emma and I aren’t so sure about that.”

              Graham’s eyes darted between the two women. “You can’t be serious. They have a 911 tape of Milah Jones saying her husband’s trying to kill her.”

              Emma shook her head. “I listened to that tape. Milah Jones was struggling to take her final breaths, so it’s hard to make out what she was trying to say. She said _he’s trying to kill me_ , but she didn’t say _Killian_ until several minutes later. As a matter of fact, that was her last word.”

              Mary Margaret turned to her husband, “David, I can imagine saying your name with my last breath,” she squeezed his hand, “because I love you.”

              David smiled down at her, “That’s a romantic idea, sweetheart, but those in the courtroom said Killian Jones looked guilty when they played the tape during the trial.”

              Mary Margaret frowned. “What exactly does that mean, though? To look guilty? Imagine if you were listening to a recording of me, struggling to breathe, gasping your name. Knowing that was the last time I ever breathed, ever spoke your name.”

              David’s face contorted in pain as he contemplated something so horrific. Emma pointed at him.

              “See! That face, right there, it does look kind of guilty,” she told him.

              David frowned, “Well, I was thinking that if I were in that place, I _would_ feel guilty. That I wasn’t there to stop it.”

              Ruby rolled her eyes. “All of that is just conjecture; it can’t be proved.”

              “Okay then,” Mary Margaret said, reaching for the file she and Emma had been pouring over, “Killian Jones was called into emergency surgery as they were leaving a benefit for the hospital. The surgery ended at 12:45. Milah’s time of death was 1:30. Factoring in Dr. Jones washing up after surgery, then driving from Chicago General all the way home, that only leaves fifteen minutes for him to commit the murder.”

              Emma glanced over at Graham, who was leaning towards the recording of the phone call, his head cocked to the side. “You hear something, Graham?”

              “Maybe,” he muttered, then rewound the recording.

              “Okay,” Ruby conceded, “the timing is tricky, but it’s not impossible. Besides, his DNA was all over his wife’s body.”

              “Of course it was,” David said, “they were married. I guarantee you Mary Margaret’s DNA is on me right now.”

              “Yeah, but her blood and skin isn’t under your fingernails,” Ruby argued.

              “But,” Emma said, pointing at the transcripts of Killian’s testimony, “he told the police that he tried to resuscitate her. He also said he held her in his arms and cried. With the severity of her head injury, if he touched the wound, he easily would have gotten blood and tissue under his fingernails.”

              David frowned, reaching out to squeeze his wife’s shoulders, “Now that I’m putting myself in this guy’s shoes, I’m having doubts.”

              “Come on guys, I can’t believe you all are being so soft!” Ruby exclaimed, shaking her head. “You all know how often spouses are the perpetrators. There was an open bottle of rum, so they had been drinking. Things got heated, they argued, and he killed her.”

              “He got drunk in fifteen minutes?” Mary Margaret asked.

              Ruby shrugged. “Maybe he was already knocking some back at work.”

              “The two tumblers of rum on the kitchen island were untouched according to the police report,” Emma told them, “and there were rose petals scattered up the stairs leading to the bedroom. And Milah Jones was wearing sexy lingerie. You mean to tell me Killian Jones came home to a sexy wife ready for romance, and in fifteen minutes flat he went berserk and bashed her head in? It doesn’t make sense.”

              “He could have been abusive,” David pondered.

              “Every character witness for the defense testified that they were deeply in love. And none of them felt Killian Jones was capable of that kind of violence against his wife. The prosecution couldn’t find a single ex-girlfriend who could testify that he was violent or controlling in any way.” Emma sighed as she leaned against the table. “I’m telling you. I don’t think Killian Jones got a fair trial. The media had already painted him as a villain before it even began. Even that 911 tape got leaked.”

              “Chicago!” Graham suddenly yelled, clapping his hands. “This call was made from Chicago!”

              “How do you figure that?” Emma asked, as she came closer to Graham, picking up one of the earbuds and sticking it in her ear.

              “Do you hear that sound in the background?”

              “Uh huh,” Emma said, “sounds like a train.”

              “Yeah, but it’s not coming from beside the caller or below him,” Graham explained, pointing to the data on the computer screen, “it’s coming from above him.”

              Emma turned to him with a grin. “The L! Chicago has an elevated train system!”

              “There’s only one Edward Teach in the Chicago area!” Mary Margaret shouted out excitedly. “He’s in the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Chicago. And get this . . . he’s only got one arm!”

              Emma grabbed her gear. “Ruby! Get us a charter plane to Chicago ASAP!”

              “Why would he go back to Chicago?” Graham wondered aloud. “Doesn’t he know not to go back to the scene of the crime?”

              “Well,” Emma muttered, “that either means he’s innocent or just really, really stupid.”

                            

                           

                



	3. The Fugitive: Part Three

              Emma had really only been joking when she said Killian Jones might be stupid. Because anyone could see he was a brilliant man. A person didn’t become the leading heart surgeon in the country if they were lacking in intelligence. And yet what Emma was looking at right now was the epitome of stupid. Killian Jones’s signature on the visitor log at the correctional facility.

              “Which way did he go?”

              “Uh, down those stairs,” the officer told her, pointing.

              Emma practically threw the visitor log at the officer before turning to take off for the stairs. “You two take the elevator,” she shouted at Graham and Ruby. In her walkie talkie she shouted at David, “Get to the lobby, now!”

              Emma was so focused on looking for someone racing _down_ the stairs, that she paid no mind to the man in a baseball cap racing _up_. He collided with her so hard, she almost toppled backwards. He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. Beneath the brim of his cap, his blue eyes locked with hers. Emma gasped.

              Killian Jones winked, then turned and jumped over the banister, landing on the floor below. He looked up at her with a smirk before racing down, taking the steps two or three at a time. Emma raced after him, drawing her weapon. When they reached the ground floor, people screamed when they saw her gun, and several people tried to stop her thinking she was some sort of active shooter.

              “US Marshal!” she shouted, waving her badge. “Stop that man!”

              Alarms started blaring and red lights started to flash. Emma swore under her breath as she saw that the building was going on lockdown. The emergency glass doors were sliding shut as Killian Jones raced towards them. Emma shot her gun just as Killian dove through the final gap in the doors. His foot caught, and he twisted around to free it. Emma shot two more times, but the bullet proof glass merely cracked. The look on Killian Jones’s face was one of almost betrayal as his eyes locked with hers for a moment. Then he scrambled to his feet and took off.

              By the time security opened the emergency doors, their fugitive had been swallowed up in the crowded streets of Chicago.

                            ******************************************************

              “I first want to say that I believe Killian Jones to be one hundred percent innocent.”

              Emma massaged her brow wearily. Mr. William Smee, expert on prosthetics at Chicago General Hospital, wasn’t the first person that day to tell her that. It seemed all of Killian Jones’s colleagues at his former hospital served as character witnesses in his trial.

              “Mr. Smee,” Emma said slowly and patiently, “I know you want to help your friend. But the longer he alludes authorities, the worse it will be for him. Now please, tell me why he came to see you.”

              The man glanced between Emma and David for a long, silent moment. David glanced at Emma. “We also would hate to charge you with obstruction of justice.”

              Mr. Smee blinked rapidly, his mouth agape. “Oh – ok, well, you know the one armed man who killed Milah?”

              “The one he _claims_ killed her,” David corrected.

              Mr. Smee narrowed his eyes, “The one who _killed_ her wrestled with Killian. He got a good look at the guy, especially his prosthetic arm. He wanted me to help him identify the model.”

              Emma narrowed her eyes, taking in the man’s sweaty brow and upper lip. “That isn’t all though, is it?”

              William Smee raised both hands. “Look, I didn’t do anything else. I did leave him alone in here for a few minutes though . . . with the computer left on.”

              Emma shook her head, then shoved the man aside to pull up the computer. “Which model is it?”

              “That one.”

              Emma looked up at David with a grin. “Two men in the Chicago area have this type of prosthetic arm.”

              “Let me guess, one was Edward Teach at the correctional facility.”

              Emma nodded. “The other one is . . . John Silver.” Emma switched on her walkie talkie. “Graham, I need surveillance on 515 East Broad Street. A guy named John Silver.”

              “Copy.”

                             ************************************************

              Emma and the rest of her team headed to their hotel rooms for the night, knowing there was little they could do except keep surveillance on John Silver. The Chicago PD was on it, and would inform them if Killian Jones came anywhere near the man’s residence. For now, they all needed to catch some sleep while they could.

              As Emma was changing for bed, she heard the sound of a cell phone ringing. The thing was, it wasn’t her ring tone. She froze, then turned her head towards the sound. It was coming from the pocket of her red leather jacket. Emma approached cautiously, then pulled a cheap flip phone from the pocket. A burn phone.

              “Hello?”

              “You shot me, Swan.”

              Emma’s heart pounded in her chest as she collapsed onto the bed. “I shot _at_ you, there’s a difference.”

              “Well, my handsome face begs to differ. Thank God for bullet proof glass.”

              Emma scolded herself as her mouth hitched up in a smile. This man was a fugitive, a convicted murderer, for God’s sake! And he was flirting with her over the phone . . .

              “Wait a second. The whole thing was a set up to give me this phone! You knew Edward Teach didn’t kill your wife.”

              “You wound me, Swan! Did you really think I was that stupid?”

              Emma shifted to ease her aching back, shoving pillows behind her. “I should have known better I suppose. Why did you want to talk to me so badly?”

              “Because I get this feeling that you and I understand one another. I wanted to tell you my side of the story without your team recording me and trying to trace the call.”

              Nope, definitely not stupid.

              “Killian, you know my job –“

              “Is to bring me in, I know. Just . . . hear me out?”

              Emma massaged her brow. She couldn’t believe she was even having this conversation! “Okay, fine.”

              “Thank you,” he said humbly. “I loved Milah. With all my heart. I met her in a bar my first year of med school. I was quite a git, actually. I was far from my home in England, my brother had just passed –“

              “Your brother died?” Emma interrupted, trying to push back the tiny swell of sympathy.

              “Aye. Serving in the Royal Navy back home. He was the only family I had.”

              “I’m sorry,” Emma said softly, suddenly realizing how alone this man truly was. “I know what it’s like to not have a family.”

              “I had guessed as much.”

              “You did?”

              “There’s a look you have in your eyes. The look of someone who’s been abandoned.”

              Emma squirmed, pulling the covers on the bed up to her chin. Even though he was on the other end of the phone, she felt exposed. “So, um . . . you met Milah in a bar?”

              Killian chuckled. “Aye, and I was sloppy drunk. I don’t actually remember hitting on her, but Milah told the story many times. I apparently was more dorky and endearing than inappropriate, thank God. So she wrote her number and a note on a napkin and slipped it into my pocket. The next day, I called her, and that, as they say, is history.”

              There was a bit of sadness creeping into his voice by the end of the tale.

              “Milah was not only beautiful, but smart and vivacious. She had a great sense of humor too; it kept me sane during med school and residency. She was all I had in the world.”

              Emma had curled onto her side as he spoke. “I read the file on her case, Killian. There were several witnesses that testified how in love you both were.”

              Killian sighed. “But the prosecution painted me as an abuser, said that lots of women keep those things hidden.”

              Anger rose up in Emma. Domestic violence angered her just as much as the next person, but she didn’t like the idea of making an accusation with zero proof. “But Milah had no old bruises, no healed broken bones. There was absolutely zero physical evidence of abuse. You didn’t get a fair trial, Killian.”

              “I was in shock the entire time, Emma. I was grieving the love of my life, and there was all the questioning by the police. I was so confused. And then no one would believe me.”

              “The Chicago PD never pursued any other suspects,” Emma confirmed.

              “And that made me angry. Of course, my anger only made me seem more guilty.”

              “You wanted justice,” Emma whispered into the phone.

              “What I really wanted was my wife back,” he replied, his voice cracking, “have you ever been in love?”

              Emma swallowed hard. “No. I have never been in love.”

              “Okay, Emma,” he said, his voice becoming gentle, “you don’t have to talk about it.”

              Emma blinked, looking in shock down at the phone in her hand. “How did you know I was lying?”

              “You’re somewhat of an open book, love.”

              Emma bit her lip. No one had ever said that about her before. As a matter of fact, most people would describe her as distant, prickly, and hard to get to know.

              “Well, Swan, we’ve been chatting for far too long. I need to let you get to bed.”

              Emma glanced at the clock and gasped to see that it was 2 am. She swallowed thickly. “Okay. Goodnight, Killian.”

              “Goodnight, Emma. And . . . could you keep the phone? And keep it just between us?”

              Emma held her breath for a moment. This was crazy! She didn’t need to be carrying on clandestine conversations with the fugitive she was tracking. On the other hand, since Killian trusted her, it could come in handy.

              She released the breath and told him, “Sure.” Then she hung up and pressed the phone to her forehead. What had she gotten herself into?


	4. The Fugitive: Part Four

              Emma reached her hand from beneath the covers, groping the nightstand for her ringing phone. She blinked at the screen blearily, confused to see that there was no call coming in. Then she realized; it was the burn phone still in her jacket pocket. She shuffled across the room irritably, noting that the time was a quarter to five in the morning.

              “Seriously, Jones?” she snapped into the phone.

              “I apologize, Swan,” he whispered, “but we need to meet.”

              That woke her up. “I am doing no such thing. The next time I see those pretty blue eyes of yours, I’ll be slapping handcuffs on your wrists.”

              “Pretty blue eyes, huh?”

              Emma inwardly cursed herself. “Don’t pretend to be surprised. I’m sure you’ve used that face to get plenty in your life.”

              “As much as I enjoy verbally sparring with you, Swan, I’m on a bit of a time crunch. I’ve got proof of motive for a hit on my wife, but John Silver could come home any moment.”

              “John Silver,” Emma hissed, “you mean to tell me you’re in his house? Jones, I’ve got cops surrounding that place!”

              “Not the roof,” he said breezily. “The houses on this street are very close together. 513 East Broad Street is a vacant rental property with a broken kitchen window. You can easily jump from that roof to Silver’s and the attic window doesn’t lock. I’ll see you in fifteen.”

              “Wait,” Emma said before he could hang up, “how do you know I won’t arrest you when I get there?”

              “I just know you won’t.”

              He hung up and Emma swore as she threw the phone on the bed in frustration. She was irritated because Killian Jones was right. She was going to meet him, and it wasn’t to arrest him.

                            ******************************************************

              Emma found it as simple to get into John Silver’s house undetected as Killian said it was. Though Emma’s super power still told her Killian Jones wasn’t lying, she also wasn’t stupid. She had her gun at the ready as she crept slowly down the stairs. John Silver was apparently a pack rat; the first floor was a maze of old newspapers, cardboard boxes, and stacks of magazines. She crept on silent feet through the living room, then a formal dining room. The next room was a small office, just as cluttered as the rest of the house. And there, sitting at a small oak desk, was Killian Jones. He sat facing her, his hands lifted in front of him in a gesture of surrender. Despite that, Emma motioned for him to stand, and patted him down for weapons.

              “Did I pass inspection?” he teased, “Or did you just want an excuse to examine my physique?”

              He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes as she holstered her gun. “You’re pretty chipper for a guy facing death row.”

              “Not if I can prove my innocence,” he replied. “Check this out.”

              Killian crossed to the opposite side of the room where a framed map of the world hung above a low bookcase. But it wasn’t a map – Killian swung it open to reveal an arsenal of weapons; both guns and knives of varying sizes. Silver was a former police officer, forced to retire when he lost his arm in a car accident from a high speed chase. Knowing that, Emma might believe the weapons were simply a hobby. But closer inspection with her trained eye revealed that half the weapons were illegal.

              “And I found this,” Killian motioned her over to a filing cabinet. The top drawer had a false back, and behind it were wads of cash.

              “Looks like he’s a gun for hire,” Emma mused, “but it’s still circumstantial and doesn’t tie him to your wife.”

              “That’s what I thought,” Killian agreed, “until I found these.”

              He sat back down at the desk and pulled open a drawer. He first showed her a set of photographs. In it, a man with dark hair – John Silver – posed on a fancy yacht next to a man with shoulder length silver hair, leaning on a cane. In another picture, the same two men posed with another man by a giant sword fish hanging from a hook.

              “See this logo?” Killian asked, tapping at the third man’s polo shirt.

              “Midas Pharmaceuticals,” Emma read, “okay?”

              “They tried to twist my arm to go on this deep sea fishing trip, Emma, but I refused. I knew it was a subtle form of kickback, trying to get me to grant my approval of their new medication to lower cholesterol.”

              “You had concerns about the medicine?” Emma asked.

              Killian nodded. “I’ve never been a fan of big pharma. Whenever a new drug comes across my desk, I always look closely at the data from the drug trials and weigh the side effects carefully against the benefits. Heart medication is a big money maker, Swan, and I can’t tell you the shady dealings that take place behind the scenes at times. I’ve always refused to play dirty with patient’s health.”

              Emma leaned against the desk with her arms crossed. “That’s admirable. So what was the deal with this medication?”

              Killian ran both hands through his hair agitatedly, “That’s the detail that finally made it all fall into place.” He tapped the picture, pointing at the man with the cane. “Dr. Gold, supposedly my friend, ran the drug trial. I followed his research closely, since I knew the drug would be used in my field. There began to be signs of liver damage in several of the patients about halfway through the trial. But when Gold published the final results, there was no mention of it. I confronted Gold about it in his office a few days before Milah died. He claimed I was only a casual observer of the study, and I should mind my own business. I told him I was going to take a second look at the liver samples myself anyway, just be thorough.”

              Emma’s eyes widened. “And just a few days later, Milah was dead and you were in jail.”

              Killian nodded. “Betrayed by my own friend.” He reached down and opened the next desk drawer. He pulled out a stack of envelopes and handed them to her. Each one had Midas Pharmaceuticals as the return address. Inside were W-2 forms for John Silver.

              Emma whistled. “He’s their head of security. It all adds up.” She shook her head, however, as she returned the photos and the envelopes to their proper place. “But it’s still all circumstantial. We have no actual proof linking Gold or Silver – wow, that’s ironic – to your wife’s death.”

              “But you believe me?”

              Emma looked down into his hopeful face. She couldn’t believe he had trusted her not to come in with all the troops, guns blazing. “Yes,” she told him softly, “I do.”

              Emma’s cell phone – her real one, not Killian’s burn phone – rang. She answered it, her eyes widening in alarm as she locked eyes with Killian. “Got it,” she told Graham before hanging up, then she told Killian “Silver, he’s a block away. You’ve got to get out of here.”

              “What about you?”

              Emma gave him a cocky grin. “I’ll stay here to question the bastard, of course.”

              Killian smiled back. “And I’ve got a friend at the hospital who can help me examine those liver samples. If we can prove Gold tampered with data in his research, we’ll have motive.”

              Emma nodded, gnawing at her lower lip, “Just be careful, okay?”

              He winked at her as he turned to go, “I will.”

              “Killian, wait!” He paused, his brow furrowed slightly. She took in his features, the hint of ginger in his scruff, the bright blue of his eyes, the tiny scar on his cheek. His lips. They looked so soft, so inviting. She feared she may never see this man again, so she decided for once to do something reckless. She reached out, grabbed him by the lapels of his leather jacket, and hauled him to her. She captured his lips in a hungry kiss, and she found his lips to be just as delicious as she had imagined. He didn’t waste a second responding, opening his mouth for her, and tangling his tongue with hers.

When Emma came to her senses and broke the kiss, he chased her lips for a second, and murmured, “That was –“

“One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done,” Emma finished for him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She was _so_ getting fired.

             

             


	5. The Fugitive: Part Five

              John Silver made a ruckus as Emma’s team escorted him inside, demanding to know what the hell was going on. Emma swung the desk chair around to meet him as he entered the office, a smug smile on her face, and the photographs Killian had found in her hand. Silver’s eyes widened when he saw her.

              “You’re going through my stuff? What the hell? I’m a retired cop; I know my rights! Do you even have a search warrant?”

              Emma lounged back a little more, tapping the stack of photographs on the desk beside her. “I’m here for your protection, Mr. Silver. A fugitive by the name of Killian Jones was just in your house, poking around in your stuff. And I gotta ask myself,” Emma leaned over and put her elbows on her knees, “why?”

              Silver chuckled dryly as he plopped down in a chair beside her. “Because I killed his wife, of course! I’m the one-armed man!” He waved his prosthetic in the air.

              Emma pretended to laugh at his joke, eying the rest of her team. “You work for Midas Pharmaceuticals?”

              “Yeah, as their head of security. What of it?”

              “Do anything else with your law enforcement training?” Emma asked with an arch of her brows, “You know, off the books?”

              Silver narrowed his eyes. “What are you implying?”

              “You didn’t answer the question.” Emma held Silver’s gaze, refusing to back down or show weakness. When several moments passed without him answering, she held up the photographs in her hand. “Know this guy with the cane?”

              Silver made a show of scrutinizing the picture. “No idea. All sorts of doctors go on those cushy trips.”

              _Liar._ “I never said he was a doctor.” Emma saw Silver’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously. She stood up and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. “We’ll be in touch.”

                             ***************************************************

              “Okay, Emma, you wanna spill and tell me why you were already in Silver’s house when we arrived?” David hissed in her ear as they made their way down East Broad. “And Jones was there? What the hell, Emma!”

              Emma whirled around to face him. “ _Don’t_ question me! I’m the head of this team, and you’ll follow orders.” She turned to Ruby. “I want eyes on this guy 24/7.”

              Ruby nodded and headed across the street to organize the Chicago PD. Emma knew her intern would stay as well to keep a trained eye on John Silver.

              “Oh, and Rubes?” Emma called after her. When the brunette turned, Emma pointed at the roof behind her, “There’s roof access from next door.” Emma ignored the way David and Graham exchanged weighted glances, instead pulling out her cell phone to call Mary Margaret. “Hey, MM. I want you to dig up everything you can about Dr. Robert Gold . . . “

                            *****************************************************

              Emma was grabbing onto the dashboard of David’s pickup once again, but it was vastly different this time weaving in and out of downtown Chicago traffic. Killian Jones had been spotted wrestling with a man on the train. A one-armed man.

              “How the hell Ruby?” Emma was yelling into her phone.

              “I don’t know, I’m sorry!” Ruby cried back. “I have no idea how he got past us.”

              “Shit!” Emma swore as she hung up on her intern. She took a deep breath as panic threatened to seize her. She hated to admit it, but she was worried about Killian. Worried something would happen to him. She cared about him, as crazy as that was. The memory of his kiss rose up in her mind, but she pushed it back. If she wanted to help him get out of this alive, she had to focus.

              The police scanner on David’s dash crackled to life. “Male. Dark hair, blue eyes. Five feet, eleven inches. Healthy Caucasian. Just killed a cop.”

              “What?” David asked in shock as the blood drained from Emma’s face. He couldn’t have . . .

              Suddenly, the burn phone in Emma’s jacket pocket rang, and she fished it out with shaking hands. “Killian? What happened?”

              “I didn’t kill that cop, Emma –“

              “You’ve been talking to the guy?” David shouted in disbelief.

              Emma glared at David and lifted her hand to stop his flow of words. She pressed the phone closer to her ear. “I know you wouldn’t do that, Killian, but the Chicago PD thinks you did. They’ll shoot you on sight. You’ve got to let me bring you in.”

              “I can’t,” Killian panted, “this ends tonight.”

              “Killian, no, please don’t do this.”

              Emma heard him grunt through the phone and knew he must be injured. “He’s dead, Emma. John Silver is dead. He killed that cop, but now he’s dead. There’s no future for me. I know that now.”

              Emma pressed her lips together, tears pooling in her eyes. “I can help you. Let’s do this together. Please.”

              “Emma,” he said softly.               The sound of his voice held the hint of finality: he was telling her goodbye. Emma choked on a cry and pressed her hand to her mouth as he continued, “I never thought I could love again after losing my Milah. Until I met you.”

              “So let me help you,” she whispered.

              “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time,” he told her gently. Then he hung up.

              “Good God, Emma,” David exclaimed after she hung up, “what the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

              Emma couldn’t come up with an answer as they tore through the Chicago streets.

                            *****************************************************

              The Chicago police chief was another one of those loud, blustering types with an ego larger than his midsection. They had tracked Killian to the hotel were Dr. Robert Gold was announcing the launch of Midas Pharmaceuticals new cholesterol medication. And now the force had the place completely surrounded; choppers with flood lights circling above. They’d created a media circus, too, and no amount of arguing on Emma’s part was deterring the police chief. The murdered cop had him seeing red, and though Emma couldn’t really blame him, she was beyond frustrated. Not only was she in a panic, knowing now beyond a shadow of a doubt that Killian was an innocent man, but she was irate that her clear jurisdiction was being ignored. So she did what she always did best: she took it by force, ducking beneath the barricades around the hotel with her gun drawn.

              “Emma,” the walkie talkie at her hip crackled to life.

              “Talk to me, MM.”

              “We’ve got him, Emma,” she exulted.

The tech genius filled Emma in on the details she’d unearthed, causing a huge grin to spread across her face. She switched channels on the talkie.

“Please tell me you know where the hell I’m going,” she barked as she sprinted to the stairwell.

Graham completely ignored her question. “You gotta get out of there, Emma! The Chicago PD are ready to charge in with guns blazing!”

“They won’t risk all the civilians pouring out of this place in a panic,” Emma argued right back, “now do your job and stall them for God’s sake!”

Graham sighed. “A security guard said Jones dragged Gold to the basement.”

“There,” Emma replied, “now was that so hard?”

She dashed down the stairs, fervently hoping she would get to Killian in time. He was innocent of murder now, but he might not be by the end of the night.

             

             

             


	6. The Fugitive: Part Six

              The whir of industrial size washing machines and dryers filed the air in the hotel basement, causing stuffy heat to blow through Emma’s hair. At the sight of her raised gun, the hotel staff dashed screaming for the employee elevator, and an eerie quiet overtook her as she eased from the wash room into an area filled with water, sewage, and electrical piping. She heard a crash and a grunt, and Emma whirled to her left to see Killian stumble around a large pipe, falling to his knees. He struggled to his feet, holding his ribs as if they were broken. He lifted his gaze to meet Emma’s. One eye was swollen shut and his hair was matted with blood.

              Emma inched forward, and Killian’s eyes widened in a panic as he lifted his hand in warning with a slight shake of his head. Emma understood his meaning and glanced around nervously. Gold could be anywhere. She wet her lips as she held Killian’s gaze steadily. She hoped he could read her as well as she thought he could. Killian gave her a slight nod, and ducked around the corner to his left. Emma inched forward, swallowing hard before calling out into the quiet basement.

              “It’ll all go better for you if you come quietly, Mr. Jones.” She reached the end of the pipe where Killian had stood just moments ago. She whipped around it, holding her gun at the ready. No one was there. She called out again. “I know you’re innocent. Robert Gold borrowed your car while his was in the shop, remember? Only there was nothing wrong with his car. There’s no record of it being serviced.” She swallowed hard, her every sense at the ready. “But he did get a copy made of your key. That’s how Silver got in your house that night, Killian.”

              The next thing Emma knew, a cane was swiping at her legs, and a foot was connecting with her lower back. She went sprawling to the floor on her stomach, her gun tumbling from her grip and sliding across the concrete floor. The cane came down on her again and again, until she wrenched it out of her attacker’s grip and smashed it against a nearby pipe. She rolled onto her back only to find Robert Gold standing over her, her own gun in his hand, pointed right at her.

              “Too bad all of that dies with you, Marshall,” he sneered.

              Before he could pull the trigger, Killian came leaping around the corner, swinging a heavy lead pipe against Gold’s skull. The man crumpled to the floor, and Killian stood there, panting heavily and grimacing as he gripped his ribs again.

              “You okay, Swan?” he grunted, tossing the pipe aside and reaching out a hand to help her up.

              Emma grinned at him. “I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my life.”

              Killian shrugged. “Unfortunately, the night I’ve had has sort of knocked the handsome out of me.”

              Emma’s lips turned up at the corners as she tenderly traced his jaw. “Even big pharma and the Chicago PD combined aren’t that powerful.”

                            *********************************************************

              Emma hated that she had to lead Killian out of the basement in handcuffs, especially with all the reporters shoving microphones in their faces. Flashbulbs almost blinded them as the media got shots of both them and an unconscious Robert Gold being loaded into an ambulance. Emma waved off every question, saying that new details of the case would be released at a later date.

She led Killian to a waiting ambulance. They assessed his injuries; taping his ribs and cleaning out the cut on his head, but then pronounced him fit for transport by the Federal Marshalls. Emma led him to the black SUV with the US Marshalls logo emblazoned on the side. Ruby, who was in the driver’s seat, arched a brow in surprise at Emma when she slid in next to Killian.

“Get us the hell out of here, Rubes.”

“You got it boss.”

Emma chose to ignore the smile flirting at the edges of Ruby’s mouth. Curse David and his wagging tongue. Emma reached over and removed the handcuffs from Killian’s wrists. He arched a brow at her in surprise, but said nothing. She frowned as she took his hands in her lap, gingerly running her fingers over the purple and blue bruises on his swollen left hand. He hissed slightly at her touch.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered.

“For what? You did nothing but your job.” He reached out with his right hand to thumb the dimple in her chin, raising her gaze gently to meet his. “And you believed in me. That means everything.”

Emma swallowed the lump that suddenly rose in her throat at the tenderness in his blue eyes. She gnawed on her lower lip for a moment, then made a decision.

“Take the next left, Ruby,” she told her intern resolutely.

Ruby met her gaze in the rearview mirror, eyebrows arched in surprise. She opened her mouth to say something, then evidently thought better of it, and snapped her lips shut. She took the next left.

Emma reached into the pocket of the seat in front of her and pulled out a small first aid kit. She took out an ice pack, broke the seal, then rested it against Killian’s throbbing hand. She brushed her thumb against the inside of his wrist and gave him a hesitant smile. The one he gave her was bright, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It made her stomach swoop deliciously.

“Next right,” she told Ruby, her gaze never leaving Killian’s.

Emma leaned back in her seat, the fatigue of the last few days finally catching up to her. She took Killian’s right arm and pulled it up and over her shoulder. Then she snuggled down against his chest.

“Another right, Ruby.”

              *****************************************************

“Where the hell are we, Emma?” Ruby asked as she came to a stop at the end of a dead end dirt road.

“Just a place I know,” Emma answered cryptically, “now get out of the vehicle Ruby and stand guard.”

“Emma are you seriously –“

“I said. Get. Out,” Emma hissed.

Ruby rolled her eyes, but did as her boss asked. Next to Emma, Killian chuckled. She turned to him with a smug grin.

“You find me amusing right now, Jones?”

The smile fell from his lips as his eyes fell on hers. Emma knew he could see the desire there. She inched closer, trailing her fingers across his stubble again, then tracing the line of his neck, then his collar bone, her hand finally coming to rest at the v of his shirt, his chest hair tickling her fingers. Killian’s eyes fluttered closed, and his jaw clenched.

“I still don’t know what my future holds,” he told her hoarsely before opening his eyes.

Emma pressed ever closer, her nose brushing against his. “Remember what I said to you when you told me you were innocent?”

His eyes sparkled as a smile tugged at his lips. “How could I forget? You said _I don’t care_.”

Emma reached up to gently run her fingers through his soft, dark hair, careful to avoid his cut. “You talk about the future. But right here, right now, we’re in a soundproof vehicle with tinted windows in the middle of nowhere.”

His voice dropped an octave, the sultry sound of it intoxicating her, “Then let’s not waste the present.”

In the future, there would be a reopened murder case that would find Robert Gold guilty of the murder of Milah Jones. There would be a full pardon from the president himself for all the laws Killian had broken during his time as a fugitive. There would be an investigation from the ethics committee concerning Emma’s conduct while tracking Killian. And in the end, there would be a blue house and a white picket fence. For them. Nothing would be perfect, not after all that had led them there, but it would be a new beginning. A happy one. But here, in the present, behind these government-issue tinted windows, all that either of them could focus on were lips and skin and heat.

Emma Swan knew all along that bringing in Killian Jones would change her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got several movies on my list to tackle this summer: Adventures in Babysitting, Twister, Hope Floats, and others. I'm not sure which I'll tackle next, but please click the subscribe button so you can get notified when I update this collection.


	7. Adventures in Babysitting: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the 1987 version starring Elisabeth Shue, not the Disney Channel version. So this is definitely a T rated story with more adult themes, one of which involves a Playboy magazine. Just so you. I still am sort of shocked my mom let me and my sister watch this at 10 and 7. And it was one of our favorite movies for years!

              Killian really didn’t want to be here tonight. It may have been four months, but he still didn’t feel ready to move on after Milah broke his heart. But Liam said that turning into a hermit only continued to allow the woman power over him. And didn’t Killian hate being controlled? By anyone? That certainly got his attention.

              Of course, Will and Jefferson thought it was the prospect of getting laid that lured him out of the dorms. Copious amounts of alcohol, sorority girls, and the chill of Boston winter all added up to a great roll in the hay with some willing lass. Little did his friends know how unappealing that sounded in his current angst-ridden state. Milah had been his everything. How could he settle now?

              So here he was, in the corner of the frat house living room, nursing a bottle of rum and being – as Liam put it – anti-social. The band was playing some upbeat number by Huey Lewis and the News, the kind of cheesy pop music that made his classic rock ears bleed.

              But then they transitioned into Paul McCartney’s “Maybe I’m Amazed” – not a normal choice for this current top 40 college band – and it was as if the crowd parted and an ethereal light shone on the blonde across the room. He was pretty sure his jaw dropped like a total git. Luckily, her eyes were scanning the room, oblivious to his presence. Her hair fell in soft, wavy curls instead of the corkscrew perms all the other girls had. She was fresh-faced too, which he liked. Even Milah wore too much makeup in his opinion. Most women did. It was 1987, after all. But this girl was a classic beauty.

              He rose from his seat and made his way towards her, feeling as if he were moving in slow motion. She still hadn’t turned her gaze in his direction. And then, from out of nowhere, Will and Jefferson had her surrounded. Will opened a glossy magazine and held the centerfold up to the blonde’s face, an eager, almost salacious grin upon his lips. The blonde wrinkled her button nose in disgust. It was only then Killian noticed the three children with her: two boys and a girl. She clapped her hands over the eyes of the little girl and the younger boy. The older one blushed bright crimson, his eyes widening in shock. The blonde snapped something in the boy’s direction, and he quickly averted his eyes.

              Killian’s irritation reached a boiling point as he swiftly intercepted his friends, crumpling the Playboy magazine and shoving it in Will’s chest.

              “What the bloody hell are you doing?” Killian hissed at his friend. Then he turned, flashing an apologetic smile at the young woman. Now that he was closer, he could see that freckles dusted that adorable nose and her eyes were a light green. They flashed fire right now, which only made her more appealing. “I apologize for my friends. They are a bit . . . uncivilized.”

              The blonde was having none of it. “That’s an understatement. They just scarred these kids for life!”

              “I know, and I truly want to make it up to you. What’s your name, lass?”

              She threw another scowl over his shoulder towards Will. “It’s not _Shalene_.”

              Will opened the magazine to the centerfold again, careful to keep it angled away from the kids. “You mean you’re not Miss October? But . . . “ he glanced from the centerfold to the young woman before him, and back again, “the resemblance . . . “

              Killian tapped his forehead, “Think for a second, mate. What would a Playboy centerfold be doing at a frat party on a Friday night with a bunch of kids?”

              Jefferson wrinkled his brow. “Well, bringing kids to a frat party threw me anyway, so . . .”

              Killian peeked at the centerfold. The woman in the photograph _was_ a green-eyed blonde, with the same elegant neck and creamy fair skin. She even had a dimple in her chin. But there was something lacking, some spark that Killian couldn’t have named if he tried. He shook his head, flashing what he hoped was a charming grin in the young woman’s direction.

              “She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

              The blonde rolled her eyes, not exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. “Yeah, and I’m sure you’ve used that line half a dozen times tonight. Is this some kind of scheme you three pull to pick up women? Cause let me clue you in, it’s tacky.”

              Killian laughed, he couldn’t help it. Oh, she was feisty. “These two don’t have the brains for that kind of subterfuge.”

              “Hey!” Jefferson barked.

              “Come on, mate,” Will grumbled, “I told you it wasn’t her . . .”

              His two friends sheepishly apologized, then quickly made their way to the bar for another beer. Killian shook his head at their retreating forms.

              “They really aren’t bad guys,” he explained, “they just don’t always think before acting.” He extended his hand. “Killian Jones.”

              The blonde arched her brow for a moment, then tentatively took his hand. “Emma Swan.”

              Killian’s face filled up with a genuine smile. “Lovely name. And it suits you.” He exulted at the pink hue that warmed her appled cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around campus before. You must be a freshman.”

              A sparkle lit her eyes as she shook her head.

              “If you were a sophomore, how could I have missed you? Surely you’re not a junior.”

              For the first time, a smile lit her face. “Actually, I’m a senior.”

              His eyes widened. “A senior!”

              She laughed, and the sound was enchanting. “In high school.”

              He blinked and shook his head. “I can’t believe it,” he told her softly.

              She looked indignant. “Hey!”

              He shook his head. “No, I mean, I can’t believe the most beautiful girl at Boston College is a senior in high school.”

              She pressed her lips together, as if forcing herself not to smile as a deeper blush stained her cheeks. She glanced away from his gaze. Then the moment was broken by the little blonde girl at her side. A sister perhaps?

              “Emma,” she said, hopping up and down, “I really gotta go!”

              “Oh my goodness, Robin, I’m sorry!” Emma gasped. Then she turned to Killian. “Where’s the bathroom? That’s the whole reason we came in here.”

              Killian gestured for them to follow him across the living room and into the hallway on the other side. He pointed at the line reaching all the way to the far end of it. Emma groaned and little Robin hopped from one foot to the other in clear distress.

              “I can’t hold it that long, Emma!” the child whined.

              “No worries, lass,” Killian assured her, taking her hand and guiding the child towards the front of the line. He looked over his shoulder at Emma. “Just stay back, Swan. You’ll ruin my angle.” Then he winked as Emma rolled her eyes again.

              He sauntered up to the front of the line, then turned to face the redhead standing in front of the bathroom door. He leaned casually against the wall behind him, still gripping Robin’s small hand. “Good evening, Ariel.”

              “Killian!” she beamed. “I didn’t know you were here!” She noticed the little girl at his side, and her face softened. “Oh, and who is this?”

              “My . . . cousin’s kid. I babysit sometimes.” Killian smoothly lied.

              “Ohh!” Ariel gushed. “That is so sweet!”

              Robin was a quick study. She smiled brightly, showing off an adorable gap in her teeth. Ariel bent down to her level.

              “Tell me about your hat.”

              Robin reached up and patted the helmet with the wings on each side. “It’s Thor’s helmet.” Then she lifted the foam hammer she held in one hand. “And Mjolnir, see? It’s Thor’s hammer. Thor’s my favorite super hero, ever!”

              Ariel grinned up at Killian, “She is _so_ cute!”

              Robin bounced up and down again, panic flashing across her face. “I really gotta go, Killian!”

              The bathroom door opened as Ariel rose. The redhead gestured towards it. “Oh, sweetie, you go right on in!”

              “Thanks, beautiful,” Killian told his friend with a wink as Robin dashed inside the bathroom. Then he sauntered back towards Emma who stood with the boys farther down the hallway. He arched his brows at her with a satisfied smirk. “See? Piece of cake.”

              Emma shook her head and narrowed her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress the tiny half smile that lifted the corner of her mouth. Killian would take it as a victory. Robin finished in the bathroom, giving him a high five and an exaggerated, childish wink that made him laugh again. He liked this kid. From the living room, the band started playing “The Lady in Red.” Killian’s throat felt tight as his gaze landed on Emma’s blonde curls resting against the red leather jacket she wore.

              “Dance with me?” he asked hoarsely.

              Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “I . . . couldn’t . . . the kids. We shouldn’t even be here.”

              “I’ll watch Roland and Robin,” the older boy piped up. If Killian wasn’t mistaken, the lad had a slightly mischievous gleam in his eyes. He might just be his ally to get to know Emma better.

              “Henry,” Emma sighed, “you’re only ten, and this is a frat party . . .”

              “And you got stuck babysitting us when Neal stood you up,” Henry argued.

              Emma blushed a bright red this time, her eyes cutting to Killian in obvious humiliation. What git would stand up an angel like her?”

              “He didn’t stand me up, Henry, I told you his little brother got sick. Contagious he said.”

              “Yeah right,” Henry grumbled under his breath. Then he grabbed his siblings and steered them towards an empty couch in the corner. “See, we’ll sit right here.”

              “The lad has a point,” Killian told her, putting on his best pout. The one Liam said always got him his way. He reached out and brushed a blonde curl off her shoulder. “Just one dance?”

              Emma glanced from the kids, to him, and back again. Then she sighed. “Okay. Just one dance.”

              Killian tried to remain confident and casual as he took her slender hand. Going out tonight might not have been a mistake after all.


	8. Adventures in Babysitting: Part Two

              Emma was visibly stiff in Killian’s arms as they danced, keeping herself an arm’s length away. She kept glancing over her shoulder nervously at the kids, biting her lower lip. Which was dangerous for him since he was already staring at her lips far too often.

              “Relax, they’re three feet away,” he smiled as he spun them both around. “See? Now you can stare at them the entire dance if you want. Though I’d much rather you stare into my devilishly handsome face.”

              That got a laugh and an eye roll out of her at least. She let out a long sigh, and her shoulders loosened a bit. “I’m just in way over my head tonight. I don’t know how everything went so wrong.”

              Killian tilted his head at her. “How exactly _did_ you end up at a frat party with three kids?”

              “Long story.”

              Killian shrugged. “It’s a long song.”

              Emma pressed her lips together and gave her head one firm shake. “Uh-uh. I don’t share my sob stories with strangers. Besides, if you knew what we’ve been through tonight, you’d turn me in for child endangerment.”

              His brow furrowed in concern. What kind of trouble were they in, exactly? Emma’s eyes widened and her shoulders stiffened at the look on his face.

              “You’ve done nothing but take care of those kids, Swan,” he assured her gently, softening his expression.

              Her lower lip trembled slightly, but he almost missed it as she bit down on it again, tilting her chin up. He wondered if it was habit to keep her feelings at bay. “How can you possibly know that?”

              “Well, here the four of you are, after dark in downtown Boston. And . . . they’re alive . . . relatively unharmed . . .” he flashed her a charming smile.

              She laughed and didn’t pull away when he dropped her hand to wrap his arms around her waist. She wrapped hers tighter around his neck. She tilted her head back and gave him a smirk of her own that made his stomach flip.

              “What about your story?”

              Killian arched a brow. “What about me?”

              “You know, the accent. What’s a Brit like you doing at Boston College?”

              “Ah,” he replied, “well, it’s not very interesting. My brother and I are both swimmers. He got a scholarship to swim here, and whenever I came to visit, the coaches would let me work out with the team. Then they offered me a scholarship too.”

              “And you didn’t mind moving so far from home?” Emma asked.

              Killian ducked his head and stared at their shoes for a moment. Then his eyes met hers before he answered sincerely, “Liam _is_ home. The only home I have left, actually.”

              Emma’s brow furrowed and the smile fell from her lips. “I’m sorry.”

              “Don’t be. He’s a stubborn arse at times, but overall he’s decent.”

              They fell silent, swaying together as the band crooned about dancing cheek to cheek. As if compelled by the lyrics of the song, they inched closer, and Killian pressed his cheek to the top of her head. Emma’s nose brushed his collar bone. Her hair was soft as silk and smelled like roses.

              “Are you in some kind of trouble, Emma?” he asked her softly.

              He was afraid she would stiffen in his arms again, but instead she turned her face and whispered against his jaw, “My mom’s car got a flat on the interstate. It’s going to cost fifty bucks for a new one and . . . we don’t have any money.”

              Killian pulled away, his eyes cutting from Emma’s worried face to the kids, and back again. He searched her eyes for a moment.

              “Stay right here, Swan, I’ll be right back.”

              Killian dashed through the living room and into the game room. Jefferson and Will were there playing pool with a couple of sorority girls.

              “Have you seen my brother?”

              “Yeah,” Jefferson muttered as he lined up a shot, “I think I saw him in the kitchen.”

              Killian burst through the next set of doors, relieved to see his brother standing by the snack food chatting with a pretty brunette.

              “Liam –“

              His brother turned to glare at him. “I’m in the middle of a conversation, little brother, you’re being rude.”

              Killian sighed and glared right back. “Liam, for the love of God, this is serious.”

              Liam glanced up at the ceiling as if begging God for patience. He excused himself from the brunette to pull his younger brother aside. “Okay, Killian, what the bloody hell is it?”

              Killian gestured through the archway that led back into the living room. “Do you see that blonde over there with the three kids? They need money to fix their car. Fifty dollars. I’ve got 25, can you spot me the rest?”

              Liam gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? How do you even know she’s telling the truth? It could be a scam.”

              “Seriously? Look at those little kids and tell me your conscious can risk leaving them stranded with no money in downtown Boston.”

              Liam let out a longsuffering sigh, then reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “Okay, Killian, fine,” he took out a wad of bills and slapped them into Killian’s hand. “Here.”

              Killian arched a brow as he flipped through the bills. “I said I only needed twenty-five.”

              Liam smiled. “I threw in an extra ten. If they’re really stranded, they may need it for food or tokens for the T.”

              Killian grinned and slapped his brother gratefully on the shoulder. He knew Liam could never walk away from a good deed.

              “Oh and Killian,” Liam stopped him as he walked back towards Emma, “you better get her number.” Then he laughed as Killian’s face burned.

                             ***************************************************

              “What’s this?” Emma asked, her mouth open in shock as Killian put the money in her palm. Robin, who sat in her lap, grabbed at the money, but Emma pulled it out of her reach.

              “I wanna see if there’s enough for ice cream,” Robin pouted.

              “Maybe,” Killian told her with a shrug, “it’s fifty for the tire and a little extra.”

              Emma blinked rapidly. “I . . . don’t know what to say. How can I ever thank you?”

              Part of Killian wanted to throw out an innuendo, but something about Emma Swan told him that wouldn’t go over very well with her right now. So he just smiled sincerely and said, “You already did.”

              Emma pocketed the money and stood to her feet. “Okay, kids, we better get going.”

              “What’s the address for this place?” Killian asked. “Is it far?”

              She pulled a crumpled bill from her jeans pocket. Killian leaned over to read the address as she smoothed it out.

              “Swan, this address is a really dangerous part of Boston. And it’s a long walk from here.”

              Emma shrugged. “We’ll take the T.”

              “After dark? No way, I’ll drive you.”

              Emma pulled the children close against her. “And you think I’m stupid enough to get in the car with a college guy I just met? No way. I’ve seen that after-school special, thank you very much.”

              Roland peeked from around Emma’s waist. “Yeah, McGruff the Crime Dog says never get into a strange car.”

              Killian sighed, rubbing wearily at his forehead. Did they not know how dangerous this city could be? Especially at night?

              “Alright,” he said with a shrug, “then let’s go take the T.”

              Emma shook her head. “You don’t have to go with us, Killian, you’ve done enough.”

              Killian drilled his eyes stubbornly into hers. “I am not about to have three little kids on my conscious all night. I’m going with you and that’s that.”

              Emma scowled. “Fine.” Then she turned on her heel and ushered the kids out the door. Killian grabbed his jacket and dashed after her. This girl very well might be the death of him.

              But what a way to go.

             

             

             


	9. Adventures in Babysitting: Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes language that I don't normally use. But, if you've seen the 80s movie, you know there's a certain line that just wouldn't be the same "cleaned up."

              The sounds spilling out of the frat house faded into the distance as Killian walked down the sidewalk with Emma and her three charges.

              “So,” Killian began hesitantly, clearing his throat, “you’re clearly not a city girl –“

              Emma stopped walking and turned to scowl at him with crossed arms. “I just meant,” he rushed to clarify, “that you mentioned driving on the interstate, so you must be from the suburbs.”

              “We’re from Storybrooke,” Roland supplied.

              “Roland,” Emma admonished, “we really shouldn’t tell him –“

              “Still worried I’m a serial killer, Swan?” Killian joked.

              “What’s a cereal killer?” Robin giggled. “You poison people’s Froot Loops?”

              Emma arched a brow. “Well, Mr. Jones, care to explain that term to a five year old?”

              “Umm . . . “ Killian hedged awkwardly, scratching behind his ear, then he quickly changed the subject. “So Storybrooke. That little coastal town that does the fairy tale festival every year?”

              “Uh huh,” Robin said, plopping to the ground and opening up her back pack, “ our Aunt Zelena lives on Yellow Brick Road.”

              “All the streets are named after things from fairy tales and children’s stories,” Emma explained, “it’s nauseating.”

              “And my mom lives on Regal Way. She’s the mayor,” Henry added.

              Emma let out a long sigh. “That’s right. I’m not endangering the lives of just any kids. I’m endangering the lives of the _mayor’s_ kids.” She narrowed her eyes at the little girl at her feet. “Robin, what in the world are you doing?”

              “Putting on my skates,” the little girl answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

              “And what whimsical street do you live on, Swan?” Killian asked.

              “You really think I’m giving you my address?” Emma looked down at Robin in irritation. “We don’t have time for this. Elsa’s been waiting for hours now.”

              “Who’s Elsa?” Killian asked.

              “Emma’s best friend,” Henry said.

              “Who’s prob’ly dead,” Roland added nonchalantly.

              “She’s not dead!” Emma rubbed her temple wearily. It had clearly been a long night, and Killian felt for her.

              “She said there was a guy with a gun at the bus station,” Robin explained to Killian as she rose deftly to her feet and skated circles around them all.

              Killian arched a brow at Emma, who sighed. “My best friend decided to do something risky for the first time in her life and run away from home. On the same night I’m trapped in a living hell.”

              “We’re not _that_ bad,” Henry protested.

              “I don’t mean you, kid,” Emma quickly assured, her face softening. She ruffled the ten year old’s brown hair affectionately. “She called the Mills’ house crying. She’d spent all her money on a cab to the city. It was supposed to be simple. Pick up Elsa, head straight back home.”

              “But then you got the flat,” Killian supplied.

              “Yeah –“

              “And then the guy went insane with his gun!” Roland exclaimed as if the whole thing was a thrilling adventure.

              “A gun?” Killian asked, glancing from Roland to Emma with concern.

              Even in the dark, Killian could see that Emma was ashamed. “I left my purse at the house by accident, and we were desperate. So when the wrecker pulled over and offered to tow us for free, I couldn’t say no.”

              “But _then_ ,” Robin jumped in, skating backwards in front of Killian, gesturing wildly with her arms, “some guy called about his cheating wife, and he started driving _crazy_! It was like a roller coaster!”

              “She makes it sound fun,” Emma interrupted dryly, “it _wasn’t_.”

              “So he pulled a gun?” Killian frowned.

              “Not at us,” Emma explained, “at his wife’s . . . er, friend. But I had to get the kids out of there. We ran and ran, and then –“

              “Then my genius sister had to pee,” Roland explained, shooting daggers at Robin, who stuck her tongue out at him.

              Killian whistled under his breath. “That’s quite the tale there, Swan.” No wonder she was wary of getting in his car. He stopped them all at the next intersection.

              “Well, kids, here we are!” Emma said with false cheerfulness. “The T.”

              They crossed the street, Killian keeping his hands out in case Robin lost her balance, but she navigated the curbs on her skates like a pro. Yet when they reached the top of the station steps, Robin hesitated. Without asking, Killian scooped her up and carried her down the steps, her giggles ringing against the stone walls. When he gently set the little girl down at the bottom, he caught Emma regarding him tenderly. Yet when she saw him looking, she quickly averted her eyes.

              They bought their tokens, headed through the turnstile, then settled onto the dingy train. Though the station was near campus, it still wasn’t one you wanted to be getting on at night. The two boys collapsed onto one seat, and Robin snuggled next to Emma across the aisle in another. The child looked up at Killian with a smile and tugged on his hand.

              “Sit by me, Killian.”

              He really wanted to squeeze in so he could be closer to Emma, but he glanced with concern at the boys on the other side of the aisle.

              “They’re fine,” Emma said, giving him one of her rare smiles. She pulled Robin closer, putting her arm around the little girl’s shoulders.

              “Ok, Robin,” he said with a smile as he slid into the seat with them.

              “Maybe you three should try to sleep,” Emma told the kids.

              Instant protest rose up from all three of them, insisting they weren’t tired. Emma rolled her eyes.

              “ _Fine_ ,” she conceded, “not like I’m getting babysitter of the year anyway.”

              Before the doors closed, a dangerous looking group of thugs piled on board. Killian felt Emma tense beside him. The boys across the aisle caught Killian’s gaze nervously. He gestured for them to stay seated. He certainly didn’t want them drawing any attention their way. The tallest of the thugs, with a black bandana around his head turned to face them.

              “Looks like you’re on the wrong train, Deveraux.”

              Emma glanced nervously at Killian as she held Robin a bit tighter. What was the guy talking about?

              “Well, you’re in the wrong neighborhood, Slick.”

              Killian turned around to see another group of thugs getting on the train behind them. The guy speaking looked a little like Michael Jackson with a red leather jacket and one black mesh glove. Only this guy was about 150 pounds heavier than the pop singer.

              “Just wait until the train starts moving then,” the first man – Slick apparently – snapped back. He punctuated his words by flipping open a switch blade.

              “Why wait?” the Michael Jackson impersonator responded, whipping out a blade of his own.

              As the two groups surged towards each other, Killian leapt to his feet. It was probably the most foolish decision of his life, and it would probably get him killed, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t let these kids get caught in the middle of a gang fight. He was shocked when Emma jumped up and pushed him aside, her arms in front of her like some avenging sorceress.

              “Stop!” she shouted.

              Amazingly, the rough young men all paused, their mouths agape. Even Killian was looking at her with a mixture of shock and awe.

              “I can’t help noticing that you’re all about to start killing each other,” she went on, her voice wavering only slightly, “and I would just appreciate it if you would let us get off the train first.”

              “Out of my way, bitch,” snapped Slick, grabbing Emma by the arm.

              “Don’t touch her!” Killian demanded, knocking the man’s hand away and stepping between him and Emma. The man’s eyes widened and rage flared his nostrils. _I’m about to die_ was Killian’s eerily calm thought.

              “Don’t fuck with the Lords of Hell,” the man hissed. Then he flung his knife down.

              Killian looked down in shock to see the knife embedded in his boot. The children screamed, but Killian just stared at the knife with a strange calm. He couldn’t feel a bit of pain. That is until Emma bent down and yanked it out. Thankfully, he only hissed as the metal slid across flesh. The knife only had a small smear of his blood on the very tip. Emma wielded it right in Slick’s face.

              “Don’t _fuck_ with the babysitter!”

              Slick backed away, both hands up, palms out as if warding Emma off. “Chill, girl,” he muttered.

              Emma swung around towards the gang members behind her, and they too recoiled. She scooped Robin up with her free hand, then backed into Killian, still brandishing the weapon. Killian motioned for the boys, and the group of them shuffled quickly off the train just before the doors shut. As the train pulled away, Emma tossed aside the knife in disgust.

              Killian made his way gingerly over to a bench and started unlacing his boot. His sock felt wet and sticky. Sure enough, when he pulled the boot off, the tip of his sock had a large, red stain.

              “Oh my God, oh my God,” Emma gasped, trembling and falling to the bench beside him. “You got stabbed!”

              Killian winced as he peeled off his sock, more from fear of what he would find than pain. He used the clean top of his sock to dab away the blood. He sighed with relief when he could finally see the wound.

              “Tis but a scratch, love. See?” he assured Emma, pointing at the cut that ran between his second and third toe.

              “Thank God,” Emma breathed, falling against him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She fit perfectly against his collarbone, and he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. Her hair was soft against his cheek. She pulled back and lightly stroked his jaw.

              “Why did you push that guy away like that?”

              “He grabbed you. I just did what any heroic gentleman would.”

              Emma’s mouth hitched up on one side as she gave a slight shake of her head. Then she seemed to realize that her fingertips were still brushing his face. She snatched them away as her cheeks burned.

              “But you’re still bleeding!” she exclaimed as she looked back down at his foot. She was right; a small trickle of blood ran from the cut and down the top of his foot.

              “You can have a Thor band aid,” Robin announced as she rummaged in her backpack. She waved the colorful bandage in the air with a big grin on her face.

              “See?” Killian told Emma as he peeled the paper away from the band aid and pressed it to his cut. “Good as new.”

              Emma laughed again. Roland leaned over and examined Killian’s foot with a serious expression.

              “Give me another one of those,” he told his sister. Then he wrapped a second band aid around Killian’s toe, securing the first one. “There. That’s how Regina did it when I scraped my toe falling off my bike.”

              Killian ruffled the boy’s hair. “Thank you, Dr. Roland.” He put his sock back on, even though he hated the wet, sticky feeling of the blood soaking it. He knew he could never walk even a block in his boots without it. “It looks like my boot is hurt worse than my foot, Miss Swan. No harm done at all.”

              Emma bit her lip and furrowed her brow. Before she could say anything, however, Killian beat her to it.

              “What do you say about that ride now?”

              Emma’s face relaxed, then she arched a brow. “Still not sure I should trust you.”

              Killian stood, then extended his hand with a flourish. “I promise I will be nothing but a gentleman.” He leaned closer and winked. “Or you can take your chances with gang fights on the T.”

              For a long moment she regarded him with intensity in her green eyes. Then she slowly placed her hand in his.

              “Lead the way,” she told him.

              The three kids let out loud cheers.

 


	10. Adventures in Babysitting: Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some people in the comments mention certain parts of the movie. I just want to prepare everyone: I am not doing a scene by scene re-telling here. I am leaving out a lot of plot points and a lot of characters to focus on the CS relationship. So you may not see a scene or character that you want to from the movie. I wrote this the way I thought best fit the characters. Emma isn't Chris and Killian isn't . . . whatever the college guy's name was, lol. So I go where the story would if it were CS not necessarily where the movie went. Make sense?

              Killian had walked to the frat party, so his Jeep was still parked by the dorms, where it was quieter. He walked to the passenger door first, opening it for Emma, despite her sarcastic eye roll.

              “You’re really taking this gentleman thing seriously,” she quipped.

              “Always,” Killian responded with a wink. Then he turned to Robin. “Next, m’lady,” he told her with a sweeping bow, then offered his hand with a flourish to help her into the back seat. The little girl giggled delightedly.

              “Please don’t be a psycho kidnapper or worse,” Emma told him as he slid behind the steering wheel.

              “Trust your gut, Swan,” he told her with a laugh as he buckled his seat belt, “you know deep down you can trust me.”

              “Well, hopefully my gut is right,” Emma replied so softly, he almost didn’t catch the words. She turned to the kids in the back, “Make sure you’re all buckled up, okay?”

              “Yes, Emma,” they all chorused, then obediently pulled the straps across their torsos.

              “They’re good kids,” Killian commented.

              “Yeah,” Emma laughed, “it would have been an easy fifty bucks if not for this disastrous field trip.”

              Three blocks from campus, Emma groaned and slumped against the passenger side window.

              “What is it, love?” Killian asked with concern.

              Emma gestured to the French restaurant outside the car window. “That’s the restaurant Neal was going to take me to. For our three month anniversary.”

              “Looks like he went without you,” Henry piped up from the backseat.

              Emma frowned and glanced back at the ten year old. “What are you talking about?”

              “Doesn’t he have a red corvette with a license plate that says _so cool_?” Henry said it with a voice dripping in sarcasm. It was pretty clear that the kid had a low opinion of this guy.

              “Yeah, why?” Emma snapped, crossing her arms.

              “Well,” Henry explained, pointing out the window to the restaurant’s small parking lot, “look.”

              Killian and Emma both looked where the boy was pointing, and sure enough, there sat the car he had described; pretentious vanity plate and all. Killian glanced at Emma worriedly. The lass first turned a sickly pale color, then her mouth fell agape. But her initial shock was quickly replaced with a flashing and narrowing of her eyes.

              “Pull over,” she spat out.

              “As you wish,” Killian replied grimly. He didn’t relish Emma’s obvious distress, but he certainly wanted a chance to confront this jerk.

              The restaurant parking was valet only, so Killian found a spot along the curb half a block away. He had barely put the Jeep in park before Emma had leapt out onto the sidewalk. He made sure the kids stayed close as he hurried to keep up with her. She marched resolutely through the door of the restaurant, completely ignoring the indignant maitre d’. Killian caught up with her as she stood near the wall at the back of the restaurant, scanning the crowd.

              “Who’s that girl in blue?” Roland asked, pointing. “Neal’s kissing her hand.”

              At a cozy table in the corner, a young man with brown hair sat with his back to Killian. Across from him was a beautiful, slender dark haired girl. Her strapless sapphire gown, studded with beading, sparkled against her coffee colored skin. The man – Neal, Killian was assuming – leaned forward to kiss the young woman’s hands, which he held tenderly.

              “Tamara Martin,” Emma spat, “everyone knows she’s a slut.”

              Killian turned to look at Emma. She was breathing heavily in anger, her fists clenched at her sides. She blinked rapidly, but Killian could still see the unshed tears shining in her eyes.

              “I thought Gideon was sick,” Robin said innocently. Her words only made an angry flush rise to Emma’s cheeks. She marched across the restaurant, and Killian rushed after her.

              As they neared the table, they could hear Neal’s words to Tamara: “Girls like you only come along once in a lifetime.”

              “Or twice in the same night,” Emma snapped, voice dripping with condescension.

              “Ems!” Neal exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He reached out to touch Emma’s arm, but she snatched it away.

              “Don’t Ems me! You lied to me! You said your little brother was sick so you could go out with _her_ behind my back!”

              Neal scoffed. “Come on, baby, it’s not like I put a ring on your finger. We were just having fun. I mean, you didn’t think I was serious? Did you?” He chuckled. “Oh my God, you did. Wow, well, I should have known better dating a kid like you.”

Killian’s blood was already ready to boil over, but when Neal actually laughed in Emma’s face, he couldn’t take anymore. He stepped between Neal and Emma and shoved the asshole in the chest. “How dare you? You’re the one lying and cheating! You don’t even have the common sense to treat this woman the way she deserves!”

Neal laughed again, looking back at his date with a roll of his eyes. “Where’d you dig up this guy, huh, Ems?” He leaned closer to Killian, speaking in a loud stage whisper. “I’ll just give you a heads up before you waste your time. Her legs are locked together at the knees.”

Killian didn’t hesitate to think at all, he just pulled back his fist and threw a punch. Neal fell backwards, crashing into the table behind him. Tamara leapt to her feet with a shout as champagne and cutlery went flying.

“What’d you do that for?” Emma shouted, shoving Killian in the chest.

She reached down to help Neal up, and Killian gaped at her incredulously. “You can’t be serious! You’re defending this asshole?”

Once Neal was on his feet, Emma turned to Killian with a secret smile on her lips. “Not at all. _I_ just wanted to be the one to get in the first punch.”

Then she turned without hesitation, swinging her fist. It connected with Neal’s jaw, sending him flying backwards again into the remains of his fancy French dinner. He moaned and writhed on the floor, cupping one hand over his swollen jaw and using his other hand to cover his black eye. Tamara rushed over, picking her way on her high heels through the broken dishes to help Neal up. Killian saw the maître d’ and someone who looked suspiciously like security heading their way from the other side of the restaurant.

“Time to get out of here, Swan,” Killian said, pushing Emma towards the door.

They burst out onto the sidewalk, breathing hard. Emma clutched her head, laughing deliriously. Then she looked at Killian with shining eyes and embraced him in a hug.

“That. Was. _Awesome!_ ” Henry cried, giving Emma a high five.

“Yeah, Emma,” Roland told her, “you were totally rad. Like one of the Ninja Turtles!”

Killian cupped her cheek. “Bloody brilliant, lass, truly.”

Emma shrugged, stepping away from his touch. “I’m not gonna let a guy treat me that way and get away with it.” Her smile fell away, however, as she looked frantically amidst the group of them. Then she spun in a circle, a frown marring her features. “Uh, guys? Where’s Robin?”

Killian spun around too, scanning the area. “She was right behind us!”

They all started calling her name: “Robin! Roooo-bin!” Almost immediately, they heard laughter behind them. They turned to see Robin sitting on a curb beside the restaurant, a plate balanced on her lap. They rushed to her and found that the plate was piled high with fancy pastries. Emma fell to her knees beside the little girl in relief.

“Robin, what in the world are you doing? You scared us half to death!”

“I’m eating dessert,” she said, holding up a pastry covered in chocolate icing. “Want one? These are my favorite, but the cream puffs are good too.”

“Robin,” Henry admonished, setting both hands on his hips, “did you steal those?”

“Nope,” Robin replied. She took a big bite of pastry, getting chocolate all over her nose. “I told the waiter to put these on Neal Cassidy’s bill.”

Emma looked up and locked eyes with Killian and laughed. Killian winked at her.

“Have I told you Swan how much I like this kid?”

Everyone picked up a pastry and lifted them high in the air as they turned to walk back to Killian’s Jeep.

“To Neal!” Henry cried.

“To Neal!” everyone chorused back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter in this AU! Which means a kiss is coming . . .


	11. Adventures in Babysitting: Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter for this! I hope you like this super cute, fluffy ending :)

              Silence had descended in the Jeep. All three kids had fallen asleep in the backseat, and Emma had her forehead pressed against the window. She watched the city lights pass by, a pensive look upon her face.

              “Are you okay, love?” Killian asked softly, not wanting to awaken the children.

              Emma gave him a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “Oh yeah, I’m fantastic. I just caught my boyfriend cheating.”

              “I’m really sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

              “Not your fault,” she said with a shrug.

              “What I mean is . . . “ he took a deep breath, “I know how it hurts. Four months ago, I caught my girlfriend cheating. Only she was doing far more than having dinner.”

              Emma winced. “That’s rough.”

              “Aye,” he replied.

Silence fell between them. Emma fiddled with the zipper on her jacket. Finally, she seemed to work up her nerve and said, “I should have seen it coming. He was getting . . . frustrated with me.”

Killian frowned. “You’re not referring to that immature _locked at the knees_ comment are you?”

“Of course I am!” Emma exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice low. She glanced back at the kids to check that they were all still asleep. Then she turned back towards Killian. He glanced away from the road, to meet her gaze, and he hated to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “You’re a college guy, I’m sure you would expect the same thing Neal did from a girlfriend.”

Killian’s jaw clenched, and he squeezed the steering wheel in a tight grip. He was still royally pissed at the jerk, but Emma didn’t need his anger right now. “Listen, Swan. You are far more than just a conquest. If I had the great honor to be your boyfriend, I would see it as my job . . . well, I hope you would _allow_ me the privilege . . . to protect your heart.” He looked over at her again with an intense gaze. “And to cherish it.”

Emma blushed and glanced away. She gave a nervous laugh. “Are you this poetic with all the girls?”

“Only with the ones who inspire me,” he told her with a wink.

Killian’s heart sank as he saw the mechanic they were looking for up ahead on the right. His evening with Emma Swan was quickly coming to an end. He pulled into a space directly under the neon sign that said _Camelot Cars and Tires_. Emma let out a relieved breath.

“Look,” she said, pointing out the window, “my mom’s station wagon with a new tire. Thank God!”

Henry stirred first in the backseat. “We’re here? Can we go home now?”

Emma turned to her charges with a huge grin on her face. “Yes, Henry! You three stay here, and I’ll go in and pay for the tire.”

“Let me go with you, Emma,” Killian said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Emma lifted her hand and shook her head. “No, stay here with the kids. Roland and Robin are still asleep. I hate to wake them.”

He nodded. She had a point. He was a little nervous about her going in alone, but he could see a dark haired gentleman at the counter through the large picture window. There wasn’t really much that could go wrong at this point.

Henry leaned forward, crossing his arms over the bench seat. “So, you gonna ask her out?”

Killian blinked at the lad. “Um . . . “

“Yeah,” Roland said as he stretched and yawned, “get her number. That’s what my dad did when we met Regina and Henry at the park.”

Robin suddenly bolted up, her hair sticking out crazily around her Thor helmet. She looked around with wild eyes. “What’d I miss?”

Killian chuckled at how quickly she could go from fast asleep to wide awake. “Emma’s inside paying for the tire,” he told her.

“And Killian’s going to ask her out,” Henry added.

“Good,” Robin said, “because I think she likes you.”

Killian raised his eyebrows. “Really? Did she . . . say anything about me?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Hello? We’ve been with you the whole time. You need to get her alone, dude.”

Killian pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. He could tell from Robin’s expression that she was completely sincere. “Okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Here she comes!” Roland squealed, shoving Killian in the shoulder as Emma approached the Jeep. She had a broad smile on her face.

“It was exactly fifty dollars! Now we can pick up Elsa and get home before the kids’ parents ever find out.”

“That’s good,” Killian said, suddenly nervous. He scratched behind his ear. “Um, before you go, I was hoping . . . could I have your number? I’d like to see you again. Without kids next time?” He could sense the kids in the backseat leaning closer.

A frown marred Emma’s face. Not a good sign at all. “Killian, you’re really nice, but . . . I just broke up with my cheating boyfriend. I don’t need to jump into a new relationship.”

Killian gave her a crooked smile. “I was just cheated on too. We could be each other’s rebound.”

The joke fell flat. Emma scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Come on, kids,” she commanded, then marched towards the station wagon on the other side of the lot.

Henry leaned over the seat to glare at him. “Seriously? _That’s_ what you decided to go with?”

Henry clambered out of the Jeep, and Roland followed after him, shaking his head at Killian in disappointment. Robin placed a hand on his arm and gave him an encouraging smile.

“I’ve got your back, Killian,” she told him. Then she winked and hopped down out of the vehicle.

With a sinking heart, Killian watched the station wagon pull away. When the headlights disappeared around the next block, he dropped his head to the steering wheel in frustration.

              *******************************************************

Killian headed back to the frat house. He knew from past experience that Will and Jefferson would be completely wasted and in need of a drive home. He didn’t trust them to even walk the three blocks to the dorms without stumbling into oncoming traffic.

Sure enough, when he pulled up, Jefferson was puking in the bushes and Will was sprawled out on the frat house front lawn. Liam stood scowling with his arms crossed indignantly. He was in the Alpha Kappa Fraternity and had learned the hard way not to let his brother’s friends crash in the frat house. Something about a ruined sofa and somebody’s girlfriend who was now an _ex-_ girlfriend because of Jefferson.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Liam asked as Killian exited the Jeep. “How long does it take to give a girl a ride to the mechanic’s?”

Killian rolled his eyes as he struggled to get Will to his feet. “Long story.”

“Well, did you get her number?”

Killian shoved Will into the back seat, then steered a stumbling Jefferson through the door as well before scowling at his brother. “No, okay, I didn’t get her number.” Liam raised both eyebrows and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Killian cut him off. “And I don’t want to hear it, Liam, okay? Just drop it. Please.”

Liam shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” Then he turned and headed back into the frat house. Music still poured out of the front doors, and college students still congregated on the front porch. It would be awhile before the party wound to a close, but all Killian wanted to do was shut himself up in his room and nurse his wounded ego.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Will muttered. “It’s poking into me bum.”

Killian glanced behind him and saw his friend holding up a sparkly hot pink roller skate. He snatched it out of Will’s hand, a delighted smile filling his face. Attached to the skate was a tag that read, “If lost, please return to Robin Mills at 150 Regal Way, Storybrooke MA.”

“Yes!” Killian exclaimed, kissing the tag. “Robin, you are one amazing kid!”

Jefferson began to laugh maniacally, falling over into Will. “He’s lost is mind! Kissing a roller skate!”

“Laugh all you want,” Killian told him as he pulled out of the space and headed as fast as he could to the dorms, “I’m leaving you two drunken fools and driving to the suburbs.”

“The suburbs?” Will muttered, burping loudly. “What the bloody hell for, mate?”

“For the most beautiful girl at Boston College, the state of Massachusetts, and the World.”

              **************************************************

Killian worried that he would either miss Emma completely or that he would arrive before her and get her in trouble with the Mills. Thankfully, when he pulled into the Mills driveway, there she was, keys in hand, approaching her mother’s station wagon parked in the circular drive. She looked up as his headlights cut across her path, and her eyes widened in surprise. He cut the engine and got out, clutching the skate in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. He couldn’t tell from her incredulous expression if she was happy to see him or not.

He held up the skate. “I thought Robin would be missing this. She left it in the back seat.”

A tiny smile hinted at the corner of Emma’s mouth. “That was really sweet of you.”

He took a step closer, swallowing nervously. “I’m also in need of a babysitter.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, then she shook her head with a crestfallen expression. “I’m afraid tonight was my last job. I’m officially retiring.”

“Oh,” Killian said with a disappointed nod, “that’s a shame.”

“Who was the babysitter for?”

Killian wiggled his brow at her and sauntered even closer into her personal space. “Me.”

Her eyes lit up as she gave him a coy smile. She reached out and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “Well, in that case, I think I can make an exception.”

A smile filled his face as he gazed into her eyes. They swayed closer, their noses almost brushing.

“Kiss her already!” a voice shouted from above.

Emma and Killian jumped apart, laughing. They looked up at the house to see all three Mills children leaning out of a second story window, clad in their pajamas. Emma looked shyly back at him, and despite the pint-sized audience, he stroked her cheek, tossing the roller skate into the grass by the driveway. Both hands free, he cupped her face, tilting her chin. Slowly, he bent towards her, brushing his lips with hers. The kiss was soft at first, gentle, but then Emma tilted her head and parted her lips on a sigh. Killian deepened the kiss then, swiping his tongue across her lips to ask for entrance. Then the entire world fell away as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“Gross!” another small voice shouted from the window.

Emma pressed her forehead against his, laughing again. Then she turned around and shouted up at the kids, “Go to bed already!”

Giggling, the younger two kids ducked below the window sill while Henry shut it and pulled the shade. Turning back to Killian, Emma pushed up on her toes to kiss him again, wrapping her arms around his neck.

What started out as a miserable night for both of them ended up being a night neither of them would ever forget. A night they would tell stories about for years to come, for three _other_ children. The story of the night mommy and daddy first met.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: A CS Twister AU. I have it outlined completely. It will be very different from the movie, but I am excited about where I decided to take it!


	12. Twister: Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited about my spin on this movie for CS, but now that it's time to post the prologue, I'm afraid you may all hate me. There are multiple major character deaths just in this prologue. Sorry . . . *ducks and hides* I mean, this is Twister!

Laverty, Oklahoma

May 2nd, 1999

 

              The beat up blue pick-up truck slowed to a crawl as it approached the slim, dark haired 12 year old. There wasn’t another soul on this long stretch of country road.

              “Killian,” the 16 year old behind the wheel called out as he rolled the window down. The boy kept walking, his still-boyish jaw clenching. He refused to look at the older boy, hitching his backpack higher up on his shoulders. The dog trotting at the end of a leash at his side barked and lunged excitedly towards the truck, tail wagging.

              “Wilby, stop it,” Killian hissed at the dog, “you little traitor.”

              The sheep dog plopped down on its haunches, almost as if saying, “No way, kid, I’m done walking.” The driver of the pick-up laughed as he rolled to a stop.

              “Shut up, Liam,” Killian scowled, arms crossed.

              Liam put the truck in park, then walked around to open the passenger side door. Wilby yanked away from Killian and jumped up into the cab, his betrayal complete. Liam laughed again and ruffled Killian’s hair.

              “Next time you run away, little brother, don’t try and take the dog.”

              Killian jerked away, smoothing down his hair where Liam had mussed it. “ _Younger_ brother, and I’m not getting into that truck. I can’t take one more second with that man.”

              Liam let out a long-suffering sigh as Killian turned to continue down the road. The wind was picking up and swirls of dust skittered across the asphalt. Wilby jumped down to the bed of the truck and whimpered as he wiggled under the bench seat. Liam narrowed his eyes as he looked behind him to see ominous black clouds roll across the sky. Thunder crashed from somewhere in the distance.

              “Um, Killian, get in the truck.”

              “ _No!”_

“Damn it, Killian, _now_!”

              Hail suddenly began to fall from the sky, pinging against the hood of the truck and pelting Liam’s skin. He ducked down, covering his head with his arms.

              “Killian, stop being an ass and just get in the truck!”

              Killian turned towards his older brother with the beginning of a smart retort on his face, but instead of speaking, his face drained of color. His gaze focused on something behind Liam, his eyes growing wide with fear. Liam followed his line of sight and dread filled him. A funnel had formed out of the gray clouds, its color growing dark brown as it sucked up dust and debris. A sound like a freight train roared around them as the twister made its way towards them in a zig zag pattern.

              Liam spun around, pointing to the overpass behind his brother. “There, Killian! Quick!”

              The stubborn 12 year old shook his head, running instead towards the truck. Liam grabbed him as he went to enter the cab. Killian struggled and kicked against him.

              “Not without Wilby!”

              Liam shook him and leaned down until they were eye to eye. “I’ll get him, you go take cover.”

              Killian shook his head, “No, we need to stay together.”

              Liam grabbed the boy’s face. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

              Killian nodded before turning towards the overpass. He was racing, tripping, tumbling to get there as the wind tugged at him. He scrambled up behind the concrete pillars, then turned around, squinting through the swirling dirt, looking for his brother. When he couldn’t see him, he clambered back down to the road that ran beneath the bridge so he could see better. Liam was still by the truck, trying to coax a terrified Wilby out. The twister was coming faster, straight for the truck. Didn’t Liam see it?

              Killian screamed his brother’s name, but it was swallowed up by the roaring wind. His eyes widened as a screen door came tumbling end over end out of the dirty gray whirlwind, straight for him. He screamed and ducked, but he felt a blow against his temple. Then everything went black . . .

 

Chickasha, Oklahoma

May 2nd, 1999

 

              10 year old Emma Swan sat curled up in a ball on her twin mattress, hugging a teddy bear to her chest. The walls of the old farmhouse creaked and groaned around her, and the wind buffeting the windows was like a high-pitched wail. Something hit her bedroom window, and she gasped and turned towards the sound. She narrowed her eyes at the window behind her yellow lace curtains. The glass seemed to strain, as if the window would pop free of the wall any second.

              “Emma!” her father screamed as he burst into the room.

              “Daddy!”

              She reached her arms out, still clutching her teddy bear in one hand, and wrapped her arms and legs around her father like a leech. Her father was the strongest man she knew, and once he held her tight, she knew everything would be okay. Even so, she trembled in his arms, tears rolling down her cheeks as the entire house seemed to rattle and sway.

              “David!” her mother screamed, a strange figure holding a swaying battery powered lantern in the pitch-black house. “I can’t find Leo!”

              “What do you mean you can’t find him?” her father’s voice sounded more frightened than Emma had ever heard it. Her brother was only three. Would he be okay?

              “He was so afraid,” her mother continued, her voice cracking, “he didn’t want to go outside to the storm cellar. I think he’s hiding.”

              David set Emma down on her feet. And grasped his wife’s face tenderly in his hands. “Mary Margaret, it will be okay. Take Emma to the cellar. I’ll find him.”

              “But, David – “

              “I’ll be there in a minute. I promise.”

              All Emma had time to do was grasp empty air where her father’s hand used to be, screaming “Daddy!” before her mother was racing down the stairs and out the back door, pulling her along. The wind tore at Emma, so strong she worried it might lift her off her feet. When they reached the wooden cellar door, her mother struggled to open it. Emma turned back towards the house, hoping she would see her father running out with her baby brother. What she saw instead was a cyclone of wind and debris skating like a top across the yard. It sucked at the house, pulling shingles off the roof, then tearing the chimney free like a giant child’s block. Emma’s scream was swallowed up in the roar of the storm.

              What happened next was like a fuzzy nightmare. One minute, she was looking at the storm, the next she saw her mother’s face, lips forming the shape of her name. Then her mother was pushing her down the cellar. Emma heard a loud slam followed by inky black . . .

             


	13. Twister: Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will answer many questions I got about who survived those twisters in the prologue. Though I don't think you're going to like it . . .

**18 years later**

It was a gorgeous spring day; at least most would think so. But Emma Swan, with a master’s degree in atmospheric sciences and meteorology, could see trouble brewing. It was subtle; the lack of a breeze on an otherwise pleasant day, the greenish-gray tinge of sky off in the distance, and the rumble of thunder so many miles away, only people attuned to it would notice.

              But Emma wasn’t concerned with the weather. She was concerned with the man chasing it. Graham parked his Dodge pickup along the side of the rural Oklahoma road. He glanced over at her with a tentative smile, and she reached over to squeeze his hand reassuringly. She looked out the windshield at the beat up, brown 73 Ford sitting in front of her. Seeing it again flooded her with memories she wasn’t expecting. To push them back, she reminded herself of the past month and how many phone calls Killian had ignored. Resolute and sufficiently pissed, she opened the door of Graham’s cab and jumped to the ground. She clenched her fists as she marched across the sparse grass.

              A cylindrical machine sat in the back of the truck, a machine Emma knew well, down to the circuit boards and wiring. Killian’s dark head popped up from behind it. He glanced her way, his blue eyes simultaneously widening and darkening. He then purposefully looked away.

              “Hey, Rubes,” he yelled, “come check out the antenna. It seems secure, but last time we didn’t get decent connection.”

              Emma put her hands on her hips and scowled up at him. “Don’t ignore me, Killian Jones!”

              He took a step towards the open tailgate, his jaw clenching, but before he could say anything, a squeal pierced the air.

              “Emma!” Ruby shrieked, and the next thing Emma knew, she was practically being tackled by the brunette. “I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been, what? Three years? You’ve got to go see Granny. We’ve missed you!”

              Emma felt a twinge of guilt even though Ruby was smiling brightly without a hint of anger in her voice. “I know.” She glanced behind her at Killian. “I’m hoping things can be different now.” She stepped around Ruby to come closer to the truck. “If this stubborn asshole will actually have a conversation with me.”

              Killian’s eyes sparked with anger, and Emma wondered if this whole thing was a mistake. She glanced behind her, catching Graham’s eye as Killian jumped down from the truck. He walked across the grass towards them, and she raised her hand surreptitiously. Killian would never hurt her, she knew this. But Graham didn’t, and Killian’s emotions could be volatile. The last thing she wanted was an altercation between the two of them.

              “Being pissed about me ignoring you is a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” Killian spat, getting into her personal space like he always did.

              Emma glanced away, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. The comment was justified, she knew that. Especially since he didn’t have all the facts.

              “I . . . had my reasons.”

              “So why are you back?” He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

              “I . . . uh, think I’ll check on that antenna,” Ruby muttered, scrambling into the bed of the truck.

              Graham came up then, placing an encouraging hand to the small of Emma’s back. She was pretty sure Killian would interpret it as a possessive gesture. She glanced up, her heart sinking as she saw Killian’s gaze swing between her and Graham.

              She took a deep breath, “Killian, this is Graham. We’re . . . getting married.”

              Killian blinked, his head recoiling slightly at her words. Then his chest rose and fell rapidly as he hissed through clenched teeth, “So that’s why you’re here? To rub this in my face?”

              “No,” Emma said, trying to rein in her own emotions. They had always fed off each other, joy, sadness, anger, but today she had to stay calm. “But there are . . . complications that I need to discuss with you. If you had answered your damn phone, or returned my calls, I wouldn’t have had to –“

              “Seriously?” Killian cut her off with a sharp laugh. “What complications? We were never married, Swan, or have you forgotten the day you turned down _my_ proposal?” He tilted his head as he gave Graham a vicious stare. “Let me warn you, she runs.”

              The words cut Emma deep. Damn him, he knew just what buttons to push.

              “I’m just here as emotional support for Emma,” Graham explained, taking a step away from her side. Emma knew it was his way of diffusing the situation and in no way meant he wasn’t one hundred percent behind her. His calm in the midst of chaos was what made him such a wonderful detective with the Atlanta PD, and Emma had to admit, that contrast with Killian’s mercurial personality had been a large part of the man’s appeal.

              “Hey, Killian,” another voice called. This one came from the camper parked perpendicular to the road next to Killian’s old truck. The red head poking her head out of its screen door gasped when she saw Emma. She screamed louder than Ruby had as she raced to embrace Emma.

              “Ariel,” Emma laughed, “you’re still chasing storms with this motely crew?”

              Ariel shook her head, laughing as well. She gave Killian a playful shrug. “With you gone, someone’s got to keep this guy’s head on straight.” She and Killian immediately blushed, glancing away from one another, and Emma wondered briefly what that was all about.

              “Ariel is the data analyzer for the team,” Emma explained to Graham. He smiled and reached out to shake her hand. Ariel glanced at Emma with a question in her eyes. “And Ariel, this is Graham, my, um, fiancé.”

              “Oh,” Ariel said, her voice hesitant, and there was that awkward glance shared with Killian again. She shuffled her feet and brushed her hair off her shoulder after releasing Graham’s hand. “Um, so Killian, there’s a storm brewing over in Rush Springs. Looks like a good one.”

              “Shit,” Killian swore, jumping back up into the bed of the truck, “Ruby, please tell me you’ve got that antenna working.”

              “She’s all ready to go, boss,” Ruby assured him, slapping the top of the giant tin can.

              “Dorothy II?” Graham noted. “I mean, I get it, but . . . I thought you hated that book?”

              Killian finished tinkering with the controls on Dorothy II, then grinned down at her and Graham. “We both do, but nothing from _Peter Pan_ really fits storm chasing.”

              Emma couldn’t help sharing a tiny half smile with him. She remembered so many nights of him reading to her under the covers with a flashlight, both of them imagining what it would be like, as a lost boy and a lost girl, to live on a magical island. Half the time Granny would catch him in her room, and drag him out by the elbow, muttering about how they were much too old at 12 and 10 to be sharing a bed. Heat flooded Emma’s cheeks as her mind tripped forward to when Granny caught him in her room again four years later. Emma shook her head, cursing herself. It made sense at fourteen to be mortified caught making out with your boyfriend. She was a grown woman now who shouldn’t be feeling this heat deep in her core over long buried memories. She was young then, her feelings for Killian so pure and uncomplicated. So much had changed since then.

              Killian jumped over the side of the truck and jumped into the cab. Emma dashed over, grabbing the edge of the open window with both hands.

              “This isn’t over, Killian. We need to talk.”

              “You had three years to talk, Emma. How many of _my_ calls did you ignore when you left?” he glanced down at the diamond ring on her left hand. “And here all this time I thought you were just afraid to commit.”

              He turned away from her, turning the key in the ignition. It made that clicking sound Emma remembered it making on a regular basis before finally starting. But this time, Killian tried it multiple times, to know avail.

              “Come on!” Killian growled in frustration, smacking the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

              “Uh boss, we gotta get moving,” the plump, bearded man in the driver’s seat of the camper called out through his open window. When he saw Emma, his eyes brightened. “Emma! It’s great to see you! We’ve all –“

              “Smee!” Killian barked as he jumped from the truck, slamming the door, “We don’t really have time to shoot the breeze, mate.”

              “R-right, boss,” Smee apologized, fiddling with the red knit cap perched on his head. Emma smiled at the nervous man. Some things never changed.

              Killian jumped up in the bed of the truck and started sliding Dorothy II closer to the tailgate. “You want to talk, Swan?” he said to her. “Let me use that shiny truck over there to transport Dot, and we’ll talk.”

              Emma crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at up at him. She let out a deep sigh, then scrambled up with him. Graham rushed over to the truck, his face starting to go pale.

              “You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed.

              “It’ll be fine, Graham, really,” she grunted as they slid the aluminum machine to the edge of the tailgate. It was much lighter than Dorothy I, and was actually more cumbersome than heavy, but they didn’t want to risk damaging it before it could be transported to the sight of the storm.

              “Fine?” Graham argued. “You’re talking about chasing a tornado, Emma! In my truck!”

              She helped Killian lower Dorothy II from the truck then they slowly made their way to the back of Graham’s. Once they had shut the tailgate, Emma turned to her fiancé, grasping both his hands in hers. “Can you trust me, please? The crew has to take every opportunity to get Dot airborne.”

              “This is tornado alley . . . “ Graham said, trailing off.

              “If you’re scared, mate, you can stay behind in the camper.” Killian’s cocky grin was definitely a challenge.

              Graham rose to it, literally puffing out his chest. “Fine,” he muttered, “just tell me what to do.”

Emma snatched the keys out of his hands. “Someone with experience needs to drive, babe.”

As the three of them piled into the truck, Emma’s fiancé sandwiched between her and her ex, Graham muttered, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Frankly, Emma couldn’t either.

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, more questions! Just wait until the next chapter ;)


	14. Twister: Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! My real life has been hectic lately. Hopefully, this cliffhanger makes it up to you :)

              As they drove toward the storm cell, rain began to come down in torrents, and Emma turned on the windshield wipers. Through the speaker on Killian’s cell, Smee came through in a tinny voice, calling out coordinates.

              “Send those to me, actually,” Emma shouted over the growing wind, then she rattled off her own number.

              “Um . . . “ Smee mumbled, “boss?”

              “I’m the one driving,” Emma yelled even louder, “use my damn number, Smee!”

              Killian glared at her after Smee hung up with him. Emma smirked with satisfaction when a call came through her Bluetooth.

              “Why thank you, Smee,” she answered, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.

              “I’m sending the info directly to your GPS . . . “ he paused, then added, “sorry, boss.”

              Killian’s eyes narrowed at her, “I see you’ve picked up a thing or two about false charm living in Atlanta.”

              Emma rolled her eyes, “Wow, that’s petty, Mr. Flirt to Get Whatever the Hell I Want.”

              “Sure you remember how to chase storms, love?” he shot back, completely ignoring her barb. “Or has being a weather girl made you soft?”

              Emma’s knuckles went white from clutching the steering wheel, but it wasn’t from the hail suddenly pinging against the roof of the truck. “I’m no weather girl,” she seethed, “I’m the chief storm analyst for the Weather Channel.”

              “Bet that pays a pretty penny,” Killian snapped, “is that why you left? You got tired of cheap motels and that run down truck?”

              “Um,” Graham spoke up, his voice wavering with nervousness, “could you two maybe not do this right now?”

              The wind buffeted the truck, and Emma had to do some fancy maneuvering to keep them from hydroplaning. Graham gripped her upper thigh so hard, she was pretty sure she would have a bruise. When she had the vehicle under control again, she cut her eyes to her ex again, picking up the thread of their argument.

              “How the hell could you accuse me of a thing like that! As well as you know me –“      

              “Oh, I _thought_ I knew you. I’m just trying to figure out why the hell you left!”

              A pang of guilt shot through Emma at the obvious hurt in his voice. Her anger slowly abated, and fear gripped her heart instead. A heavy silence fell in the truck, and at first Emma thought it was just the weight of Killian’s words.

              “Is that . . . “ Graham trailed off, voice shaking.

              Emma realized then that the rain and hail had stopped. The silence hadn’t originated from inside the truck, but outside of it. Now that silence was replaced by a high-pitched, whistling sound. They were driving over a road that crossed a lake, and on the left side of the body of water, a funnel cloud was forming. It was long and thin, stretching down to touch the water, then skating across it like some macabre ballet. Wind whistled around the truck.

              “We’ve got to get Dot in position,” Killian cried, reaching for the door handle, but when he pushed the door open, a gust of wind picked up from the opposite direction, slamming the door back again. The momentum sent Killian falling against Graham next to him. Emma’s fiancé shouted, and she couldn’t blame him. When you weren’t used to this sort of thing . . .

              “Killian!” Emma yelled, reaching around Graham to grab him by the collar before he could reach for the door again. Out the passenger side window was a second funnel, whipping up the lake water on the other side of the road. A barn door tumbled across the road, and then . . .

              “Was that a cow?” Graham asked in a low, shocked voice.

              “Yep,” Emma answered as the first funnel picked up the poor, lowing animal, tossing it towards the horizon.

              Before any of them could register what was happening, the two funnels began a crazy sort of duet, circling the roadway. Suddenly the truck was spinning like a top. Emma fought the wheel as they all screamed, and she just prayed that the storm wouldn’t lift the truck right off the ground.

              As fast as it had begun, it stopped. Graham let out a yelp of surprise, grabbing Emma’s leg again. Emma let out gasping breaths, brushing at the hair that was blown crazily in her face, sticking to the sweat pouring from her brow.

              “No, no, no, NO!” Killian shouted, scrambling out.

              Emma jumped out to follow him, leaving poor Graham sitting there in shock. She found Killian jumping up into the bed of the truck, examining Dorothy II, which lay sideways. The little orbs of sensors that the machine contained lay scattered over the roadway.

              “Killian,” she began gently.

              “I’m a little busy right now,” he snapped at her as he righted the machine. Then he hopped down and began frantically collecting all the sensors.

              Emma frowned at him in concern. “There’s more to life than this.”

              He lifted his gaze to her, his face contorted. “How have you changed so much Emma? You of all people know why our work is so important!”

              She shook her head. “If I’ve learned anything in the past three years it’s that there will always be storms, always be tragedy. You have to live for the good moments in between.”

              Killian marched close, getting in her face. “I remember good moments, Emma, lots of them. But you left, didn’t you? Why do you think I proposed?”

              “I don’t know, so we could chase storms together for the rest of our lives?” she shouted, tears springing to her eyes. She rubbed wearily at her forehead. “This isn’t why I came. Please, can we go somewhere and talk?”

              Killian turned away from her, his jaw rigid. He tossed the sensors into the machine, then turned to scoop up more. When he answered, he didn’t even look at her. “Maybe we’ve said all that can be said.”

              “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she muttered.

              “Well, I don’t have time for long conversations that won’t change a damn thing!” He was yelling now.

              “Well, maybe if you’d listen for half a second –“ she yelled back.

              “Okay, Emma, humor me!” he replied, voice rising.

              “You have a son, damn it!”  


             


	15. Twister: Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the next chapter! For those of you not on tumblr, I have been focusing on my fic for the Captain Swan Big Bang. But now that it is finished, I can get back to all my WIP. And don't worry, this series isn't going anywhere for a while, even though summer is over :)

              The mug of hot chocolate in front of Emma had gotten cold, and she had barely taken two sips. She had expected Killian to be angry, to yell; she had prepared herself for that. But this? This was worse. The silence between them was stretched taut, and Emma wasn’t sure how to handle it.

              Even back on the side of the road, he hadn’t yelled. His face had gone suddenly pale, and his eyes had grown wide in shock. Then he had walked away from her, silent, and fallen to his knees in the grass.

              Now they sat here in this sticky booth in this dusty Oklahoma diner. Their hands clutched their respective mugs, just inches apart on the formica table. It may as well have been the Grand Canyon between them.

              “What’s his name?” Killian finally asked, still not looking at her.

              “Henry,” she answered softly.

              He gave a small nod. Of approval? Of resignation that he hadn’t had a say in choosing it? Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. She almost wished he hadn’t. She knew that tortured shade of blue, and this time, she was the one who had put it there.

              “How old is he?”

              Emma took a deep breath, fear causing her heart to stutter in her chest before she answered, “He turned two on March 5th.”

Might as well put it all out there at once.

Killian’s eyes narrowed as the numbers computed in his head, then his entire face paled as realization dawned. He leaned back in his seat as if she had physically assaulted him.

“You knew,” he hissed, his jaw clenching and his hands balling into fists.

“Killian –“

“You knew when you left,” he continued, cutting her off, “you knew when I proposed.”

“Killian,” she tried again, her voice shaking, “I can –“

“Why, Emma?” he asked, his face crumpling with his emotional turmoil. “Why would you do this when you know what kind of man my father was? The kind of man I vowed I would _never_ be to my own children.”

“I know that, and I –“

“No,” he snapped, “it was a rhetorical question, Swan. I get to talk right now. I missed . . . everything, for the past two goddamn years! The day he was born, his first steps.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I’ve never heard him call me da da.”

Emma bit her lip as each hurt and angry word hit its mark. And the thing was, Killian had a right to all of it. He audibly gasped as something seemed to occur to him. He jabbed an angry finger at the door of the diner as he yelled at her.

“Has he heard it? Does he get to be the father I haven’t had the option to be?”

Emma closed her eyes against the verbal onslaught. She didn’t have to ask who he was referring to. “No, Killian. I haven’t let him spend any time with Henry yet. That’s why we’re here. Now that we’re engaged, that has to change. Graham didn’t want to step into that role without you-“

“Without me what? Agreeing to child support? Signing some goddamn papers or some shit like that? Because obviously that’s all you think me capable of.” He slapped his palm on the table, and Emma jumped. “At least your boyfriend had the decency to make sure I knew my child _existed_.”

All Emma could do was sit there with her mouth hanging open, thoroughly chastised. But she was saved from answering anyway when Ruby came running into the diner, breathless.

“Killian!” she panted, skidding to a stop at their booth. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

“What is it Ruby?” Killian bit out through his clenched jaw.

              Killian’s mood had no effect whatsoever on the brunette. “Bad news, boss. It’s the truck’s transmission.”

              Killian groaned and ran a hand wearily down his face. “There goes the rest of the grant money.”

              “What do you want me to tell the mechanic?”

              Killian slid out of the booth, tossing a five down on the table to cover his coffee plus a tip. “Tell him I’m on my way with a check.”

              They both headed outside; Ruby to the mechanic across the street, and Killian to the camper. Emma slumped in her seat, exhausted from the entire exchange with her ex. She took a sip of her cocoa, but shuddered to find that it had gone cold. She gestured for the waitress, paid her tab, and headed outside. The sky overhead had turned an eerie copper color, and the wind that blew across her face sent a chill down her spine. She frowned. They were still within the storm system, and something was obviously brewing.

              Graham strode across the parking lot to her, brushing her lips with a quick kiss. “They went ahead and replaced all four tires on the truck. The dent was a simple fix; the guy punched it back out, no problem.”

              Emma gnawed on her lower lip, wincing slightly. “Four tires aren’t cheap. Sorry, babe.”

              Graham shrugged; he was always so laid back. Truth be told, sometimes she tried to bait him into a fight. He never bit. It was a quality that served him well as a detective in Atlanta, but for some reason it irritated Emma at times.

              “The tread was wearing down, so I was going to have to replace them soon anyway.”

              Emma heard Elsa’s voice in her head. _I just don’t see you with him long term. He’ll bore you._ Emma mentally pushed her roommate’s concerns far from her mind as Graham slung an arm over her shoulder.

              “How did it go with Killian?” he asked.

              Emma let out a long breath. “Not well. And we didn’t really come to an understanding yet. He’s so angry.”

              “Did you tell him –“

              “Don’t, Graham,” Emma cut him off, “I told you when we took this trip that you couldn’t be part of the conversation.”

              Graham took a step away from her and frowned. “Don’t I have to be? He’ll always be in our lives because of Henry.”

              “It’s complicated, though . . . “ Emma trailed off, her eyes going wide at what she saw over Graham’s shoulder. The wind had picked up, how had she missed it?

              “You keep using that word, but . . .” Graham narrowed his eyes. “Emma?”

              She grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him towards the motel attached to the diner. “Start banging on doors. People need to take cover.”

              Graham seemed confused at first, then his eyes grew large as he saw the funnel cloud forming on the horizon. A wall of dirty clouds surrounded its base. He raced towards the line of doors, his shouts swallowed up by the wail that filled the air. Emma ran into the diner as patrons began streaming out in a panic. She grabbed the waitress by the shoulders and shook her to get her attention.

              “Where’s the storm cellar?”

              “W-we don’t have one?” she stammered, eyes large and terrified.

              “What do you mean? This is Oklahoma!”

              The cook, wearing a grease-stained apron, grabbed the girl by the arm as he ran towards the door. “The auto shop across the street has a pit. That’s what we use,” he screamed over the wind.

              Emma ran alongside the waitress and the cook, herding people across the street towards the auto shop. Some people refused to obey, racing for their cars instead and peeling out onto the road. Emma shook her head in frustration, but there was nothing she could do. These people lived in Oklahoma and didn’t know that you couldn’t out run a tornado? She lifted up a prayer for them to anyone up there who would listen.

              The crowds were panicked, shoving their way into the steel building of the auto shop. Emma turned, yelling for Graham, for Killian. Ruby, Ariel, and Smee were all directing the crowds down into the auto pit. Emma whirled around at the building, her heart sinking. There were car parts and tools everywhere, plus both Graham’s and Killian’s trucks. Maybe they were below ground level, but there were plenty of things in here that could turn deadly when air borne.

              Graham practically collided with her as he raced in with the rest of the motel guests. She clasped his biceps in a vice-like grip.

              “Is Killian with you?” she screamed.

              Graham’s furrowed brow was all she needed to know the answer. She turned and raced for the door of the auto shop. Outside of it, she could see nothing but a black wall of dirt and debris. Before she could reach it, strong arms encircled her waist, and Graham lifted her off the ground, carrying her to the pit. She fought against him, but to no avail. He practically tossed her into the auto pit, then jumped in after her.

              The wail of the storm was an ear-piercing scream now, and everyone huddled as low as they could, arms protecting the backs of their heads. You could tell this wasn’t the first storm for most of these people, their instinctual postures most likely engrained since kindergarten tornado drills. Parents bodily shielded their kids. Graham shielded her as well, his strong chest pressed to her back, and his arms encircling her. The wind whipped around them, but it was impossible to tell if had been sucked in through the door or if the roof had been ripped off. Metal groaned and strained and crashes surrounded them on all sides. Emma peeked out from where she crouched, to see mouths opened in silent screams that were swallowed up by a sound like a freight train.

              Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Instead of ear-piercing winds and crashes, the only sounds were whimpers and sobs. Graham released her, and they both stood up on shaking legs.

              “Is everyone okay?” Emma called out.

              Despite many tears, most of the people mumbled that they were. Except for Ariel who cried out, “Smee!” Emma looked to find her crouched before the man, holding a bloody cloth to his forehead. Emma rushed to their side, slowly peeling back the cloth to check the wound.

              “A hubcap came flying by,” Ariel explained in a wobbly voice.

              Emma let out a sigh of relief when she saw that the cut wasn’t deep. When Smee saw her expression, he sagged himself, the pallor of his face brightening to its normal tan.

              “I swear you’ve got nine lives, Smee,” Emma chuckled, and the rest of Killian’s crew gave out nervous, relieved laughs as well. _Killian . . ._ Emma locked eyes with Ruby. “Where’s Killian?”

              Ruby’s eyes went wide, and Ariel’s face instantly turned white. All three stood up, scanning the room.

              “He . . . he went to get the check,” stuttered Ruby.

              Emma scrambled out of the pit and raced out of the auto shop (which was miraculously still standing and in one piece), screaming Killian’s name. Ariel was on her heels, her own voice frantic as it joined Emma’s. They both slid to a stop at where the camper was parked alongside the motel, Ariel grasping Emma’s shoulder and choking out a cry. A large metal beam had slammed right into the front windshield, skewering it neatly in the middle.

              “Killian!” Emma screamed, outrunning Ariel. The door to the camper swung open, and Killian stumbled out. Emma collided with him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. He stumbled slightly at her onslaught, but quickly regained his balance. His own arms came around her, his hand sliding up and down her back and then cupping the back of her head. Behind them, Ariel fell to her knees, sobbing in relief.

              “I’m okay,” he assured Emma over and over, brushing his lips against her ear and then her forehead.

              Emma pulled back, clutching the lapels of his shirt tightly in her hands. Tears streamed down her face as she shook him. “Don’t you die on me, Killian Jones!”

              “How many times do I have to tell you, love? I’m a survivor.”

Emma shook her head, the tears still flowing. She peppered his cheeks, his chin, and his forehead with kisses, then collapsed against his chest, shuddering. Ariel rose to her feet, and Killian opened one arm to accept her side hug, pressing his cheek against her red hair. Ariel gave Emma a wobbly smile before stepping back, her cheeks pink. The three of them heard a throat clearing behind them, and Emma turned to see Graham standing there, a tortured look on his face.

“I need to talk to Emma,” he said slowly, his gaze boring into her with an intensity she’d never seen before.

Killian pulled Ariel away, towards the road. “Let’s go check on that truck of ours, shall we?”

Emma didn’t even watch them go, her eyes glued on Graham’s face. She crossed her arms and shivered as a light rain began to fall. Silenced stretched awkwardly between her and her fiancé.

“Emma,” he finally said, “I thought we were coming here to let your ex know he was a father. Now I think it’s more than that.”

Emma scoffed, trying to make light of the situation, “Of course that’s all it is.”

Graham shook his head sadly. “No, it’s not. I saw you just now. You still have feelings for him.”

“Graham, we grew up together. Yes, I will always . . . care for him, but –“

He lifted a hand to stop her words. “Don’t, Emma. I’m a detective, remember? I can tell when you’re lying to me. Or more, accurately, to yourself.”

Emma blinked as moisture filled her eyes. “What are you saying?”

Graham gently pried her left hand out from where her arms were still folded protectively around her middle. His thumb swept over her engagement ring, his eyes sad.

“I don’t want to be someone you settle for. Someone safe,” he told her softly.

There was too much truth to his words for her to respond. A sob broke forth, and her right hand flew to her mouth to try and suppress it. Graham’s gaze met hers, his sadness now turning to resignation.

“This,” he said, his eyes roaming over the leaden sky, the camper behind her, then landing on her face again, “has always been a ghost in our relationship. It’s time you faced it.”

Graham gently worked the ring from her finger, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. He smiled sadly at her, reaching out to wipe them away with his thumb.

“I still love you, Emma,” he told her gently, “but I can’t marry a woman who won’t give me her whole heart.”

Emma could only nod, hugging herself tighter. She wished she could argue with him, but she simply couldn’t. “What now?” she whispered.

“I think you need more time here, don’t you?”

She took a deep breath, wiping at the last bit of wetness on her face with both hands. “I do, much as I hate to admit it.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “Go. I’ll be fine.” She gestured behind her where Ruby, Ariel, and Smee were cheering as Killian revved up his truck. “For better or worse, this is my family.”

He nodded, slipping the ring into the pocket of his jacket. He turned, both hands shoved into his jean pockets as he made his way across the street. Graham Humbert was a good man, and he was right. He deserved more than Emma Swan could give.

             

             


	16. Twister: Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hesitated to post this right now with Hurricane Florence headed for the east coast, but it just so happens this chapter has no action scenes in it. There were revelations that needed to happen at this point in the story, so this is about emotional conflict as opposed to forces of nature. Nevertheless, please know that my prayers are with everyone in the path of Florence. They've actually declared a state of emergency even here in Georgia, so my posting this in no way means that I am making light of the situation. Everyone stay safe!

              Emma collapsed on the edge of the musty motel bed as she rubbed a towel vigorously over the ends of her hair. She had honestly expected to be halfway back to Atlanta by now, in a decent hotel with a hair dryer. She sighed as she took in the tacky “art” hanging over the bed, the faded avocado bedspread and the ancient television with the slightly fuzzy reception. At least there was cable. A re-run of _The Office_ flickered on the screen, the sound muted. Emma had it on more for comfort than entertainment.

              It hurt to think Killian implied _this_ was the reason she left – the lack of material comforts on the road. Did he really think she could be that shallow? Such thoughts took her mind to her little boy – that precious child who had become her whole world in a way she never could have imagined.

She turned on her phone, smiling at her lock screen photo. Henry had found her phone and managed to take a selfie. The inquisitive look in his bright blue eyes, and the little adorable “o” of his mouth had been so beautiful to her, she had saved the picture. She swiped her finger to unlock her phone and smiled again at her wallpaper photo – her blowing raspberries on Henry’s cheek while he giggled. No pictures of Graham, just her and Henry. Shouldn’t that have been a clue?

She hit the icon for her Skype app and pressed Elsa’s number. Soon her blonde roommate was smiling back at her.

“Emma, hey! Someone here wants to see you!”

Elsa reached down and pulled a confused Henry onto her lap. Emma chuckled. Yeah, her son _really_ wanted to Skype. But when he saw Emma’s face, he gasped, and his eyes widened. He cocked his head curiously, and it suddenly occurred to Emma that Killian had the exact same mannerism when he was trying to figure something out.

“Mama?”

“Yes, kiddo, it’s me! Are you having fun with Aunt Elsa?”

“Yeah,” Henry answered, leaning back against Elsa’s chest, “we ‘ad ice cweam!”

“Ice cream,” Emma laughed with a shake of her head, “I’m shocked.”

“Hey now,” Elsa retorted with mock offense, “he had vegetables at dinner, and when he asked for dessert, I told him _no, you already had ice cream today_.”

“But Kwistoff ga’ me wowwy pops!” Henry crowed, throwing his pudgy hands up in the air.

Emma gave Elsa a smug look. “Lollypops?”

She shrugged, “Ok, so Kristoff showed up with those when he picked Anna up for their date. That wasn’t my fault!”

Henry started to fuss and wiggle, so Elsa put him down after he blew Emma a kiss. Emma pretended to catch it, then made gobbling sounds as she put her hand to her mouth.

“Yum, yum, yum, ate it!” Then she blew one back to Henry, and he caught his too.

“Um, um, um, ate it!” he cheered, then ran off.

Emma sighed, her heart full. “Thank you for watching him,” she told Elsa.

Her friend waved her off. “Nonsense, he’s so sweet!”

“Well,” Emma said hesitantly, “that’s good, because . . .”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

Elsa leaned closer to the screen and lowered her voice. “Is Graham around?”

Emma cut her glance away for a moment. “About that . . . “ She wasn’t sure how to explain, so she just held her empty left hand up to her cell phone screen.

“I knew it!” Elsa exclaimed.

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it! I feel awful for Graham.”

“That man won’t stay single for long, believe me,” Elsa assured her, “and it really is for the best.”

There was a pause that Emma wasn’t sure how to fill. Thankfully, her friend knew her well enough to change the subject.

“So how long are you staying out there?”

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily. “I don’t know. I’ll have to get a flight out of Oklahoma City probably, but we’re out in the middle of nowhere right now. Another storm hit and ruined the camper’s windshield, so we’re stuck here in this cheap motel until the mechanic scrounges up a new one.”

“We, huh?” Elsa asked, arching one elegant brow.

Emma scowled at her friend. “Don’t go there.”

Elsa was her first friend in Atlanta, though she had met Anna first. Anna was a co-worker at The Weather Channel, one of those “weather girls” Killian had spoken so condescendingly about. Though Anna had just as much educational credentials as Emma; she was just more perky on camera than prickly Emma. When she found out where Emma was living, she had flipped out.

“Are you insane?” the red head had shrieked. “Grove Park? I’m surprised you’re still alive!”

Emma knew her apartment was in a shady area, but she hadn’t known the city at all when she moved, and her realtor had sucked. Not to mention that the cost of living in Atlanta was _much_ more expensive than rural Oklahoma.

“My sister and I are looking at a place in Atlantic Station,” Anna had told her.

Emma had rolled her eyes. Atlantic Station was one of those planned neighborhoods where everything you could want was in walking distance; sort of like living in an outdoor mall.

“No way can I afford that.”

Anna had grinned slyly. “Splitting rent three ways with sisters who don’t mind sharing a room you could.”

If the baby hadn’t been on the way, Emma may have kept the Arendelle sisters at arm’s length, but she worried about bringing a baby home to that dump in Grove Park. So she had moved in with Anna and Elsa. The latter clicked with Emma immediately. The two of them were so much alike, it was uncanny. Emma had honestly been relieved to find Elsa to be reserved and even a bit distant at times. She couldn’t have handled two bubbly, chatty Annas. And it had been Elsa who had walked into the apartment to find Emma sobbing over the ultrasound photos the day she found out she was having a boy. And only Elsa heard the whole story about where Henry got his blue eyes, dark hair, and inquisitive nature. Only Elsa knew why she had been so resistant at first when Kristoff introduced Graham to Emma. And only Elsa knew her well enough to be concerned when they announced their engagement.

“How did Killian take the news?” Elsa asked now, voice gentle.

“Pretty much the way I expected.”

Elsa frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Emma shrugged, though her chin wobbled. “I can’t blame him.”

“Well, take all the time you need,” Elsa told her sincerely. If they had been across the kitchen island in their apartment, Emma knew her friend would be grasping her hand.

“Thanks.”

“Love ya, sis,” Elsa told her with a wink.

A genuine smile tilted Emma’s lips. “Back at ya.”

She ended the call and fell backwards onto the bed, tossing her phone aside. She felt restless and lonely in a way she hadn’t since she was pregnant and living alone in Grove Park. She hadn’t realized how much Anna, Elsa, Henry, and Graham had kept the pain at bay. Even Kristoff with his corny jokes and ridiculous sweaters. He was probably the only male in the state of Georgia who owned sweaters. She had been blessed to find another quirky pseudo-family in Atlanta, though it didn’t have the history of this one in Oklahoma. The only missing piece had been Killian. He had left a huge, gaping hole that she should have known Graham could never fill.

Emma heard raucous laughter coming from outside her window. She pulled the curtains aside to see light spilling out of a dive bar across the street. She pressed her lips together in thought, then making a decision, grabbed her phone off the bed, stuffed the hotel key in her pocket, and headed out the door.

The crowd in the bar was sparse. Smee and Ruby were on bar stools, laughing and doing shots. They saw Emma and waved. Smee was already so drunk, he almost lost his balance and fell to the floor. She shook her head and laughed. One more thing that still hadn’t changed.

She looked around, equal parts relieved and disappointed not to see Killian there. Ariel sat alone at a table in the corner. Emma made her way in that direction.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender called out.

“Rum,” she told him, and he nodded.

“Killian Jones has got us both hooked I see,” Ariel quipped as Emma sat across from her.

Emma didn’t answer until her drink arrived. She took a sip, watching the red head over the rim of her glass. “You’re not talking about the rum.”

Ariel caught her eye, more sad than embarrassed. She didn’t attempt an explanation.

“Are you still together?” Emma finally asked, her stomach clenching as she awaited the answer.

Ariel sighed. “No. And I don’t know that it was ever real anyway.”

Emma hated the hurt that radiated off the other woman. “I always knew you had a thing for him.”

Ariel’s bright green eyes widened. “I would never have betrayed your friendship, Emma. I hope you know that. You’d been gone a year before we . . . ,” she trailed off and took another sip of rum. “I was his rebound, I know that now. He was hurting so badly, and my heart just broke for him. And you’re right, I’d pined for so long, I guess I Iet myself believe it was real.”

“What happened?” Emma asked gently.

“Ariel gave her a sad smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I wasn’t you.”

              ***************************************************

The bar filled up as the night wore on. Ariel had excused herself early though Emma tried to get her to stay. Now she was playing a round of darts with Ruby and Smee. Or attempting to, anyway, considering her two companions were three sheets to the wind.

“Now that’s just bad form, Swan, playing against such inebriated opponents.”

Emma was so startled by the sound of Killian’s voice behind her that her aim went wide and the dart went pinging off the edge of the board. When she turned around, he was standing there with his hands in his pockets. He still wasn’t smiling at her like he used to, but at least anger was no longer in the set of his jaw. He inclined his head to the table in the corner that Ariel had just vacated. Emma excused herself from the game, though her old friends were too drunk to notice.

As she tentatively took a seat, the bartender asked Killian if he wanted anything.

“Just a beer,” he replied.

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s all?”

Killian inclined his head to the pair stumbling toward the dart board. “We can’t all have hangovers in the morning.”

The beer arrived, and he took a sip. Her mind flipped backwards to nights like this in the past. Then she was right next to him, as close as she could get, his arm flung over her shoulder, his posture easy and relaxed.

“You don’t seem pissed at me anymore,” Emma said hesitantly.

“No,” he said softly, “just hurt. Honestly, I wish I was still angry.”

Emma nodded. He had never been anything but honest with her, even when they were kids. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She opened up her Instagram account and selected the album titled “Henry.” She then slid it across the table to Killian.

“Do you want to see pictures of him?”

Killian blinked, his hand trembling slightly as he took the phone. As he scrolled through, he swallowed and clenched his jaw. Emma knew the pictures would go from most recent to the day Henry was born. The longer Killian scrolled, the more emotional he became. He alternated between small smiles and unshed tears glistening in his eyes. When he finished, he set the phone down and covered his face with a shaking hand.

“He looks like you,” Emma whispered

Killian’s hand slid down his face. “He has your smile, though. And your chin.”

Emma silently closed her phone, not knowing what to say.

“You have an Instagram account?” he asked her in a choked voice.

Emma bit her lower lip. “I only have five followers. It was really just a place to store my photos. As back up, you know?”

Killian just nodded. Emma fiddled with a napkin, first crumpling it into a ball, then twisting it. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking.

“Listen, Emma, about your fiancé leaving . . . I never wanted to see you hurt. No matter what’s happened between us, I could never take pleasure in seeing your heart broken.”

Emma managed a smile as his eyes met hers. “It isn’t broken.” She shrugged. “And that was the whole problem.”

“Why were you with him then?” he asked softly, the hurt filling his eyes again.

“Why were you with Ariel?” She couldn’t keep the harshness out of her voice.

His eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Ariel told me, though she didn’t have to. I’m not stupid, Killian.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He rubbed his eyes wearily instead.

Emma deflated. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn’t expect you to turn into a monk when I left.”

“I was never _engaged_ to Ariel.”

Emma swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to the table. “Fair enough. I guess I let things go too far with Graham because he was safe.”

“You mean because he doesn’t chase storms for a living?”

Emma blinked to keep the tears that welled in her eyes from spilling over. “No. Safer for my heart.”

 

 

 


	17. Twister: Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! But here it is, the big reveal of exactly why Emma left . . . though it may be anti-climactic because I think most of you have guessed already. Still, maybe now you won't be quite so mad at her.

              Emma folded the last of her shirts in half, then rolled it expertly, lining it up with the others in her suitcase. All those years of living on the road had made her an expert packer. She shut the case, zipped it up, and hoisted it off the motel bed. Four days in this rundown place was four days too many, but Emma knew it could have been worse. This far off the beaten path, the glass for the windshield could have taken weeks to arrive.

              Emma could have gotten Ruby to drive her to the airport, maybe even scrounged up an Uber, but every time she thought about it, Smee got excited about something on the radar. As long as she had been away, storm chasing was still in her blood. It was a habit, almost an addiction, and she had literally run away to be free of it. Now that she was back among her old crew, it was sucking her in again. And even if she hadn’t been fascinated with the data rolling in, she couldn’t tear any of her friends away from their passion.

              Even now, a tiny part of her wanted to stay to see if the newest projections developed into another storm cell. There had been nothing else to chase since that last small twister five days ago. But there was one thing in this world that pulled her more than a storm, and it was motherhood. She physically ached from being away from Henry for this long.

              There was a knock at her door, and Emma opened it to see Killian standing there with a sad smile on his face. The week hadn’t been at all unpleasant or awkward between them, to her surprise. As a matter of fact, they had fallen into their same old comfortable pattern, minus the physical or romantic aspects. He had eagerly absorbed every story she could tell about Henry, and had even Skyped with him. Henry didn’t know who he was yet, of course, but Emma could tell Killian was ready and eager for fatherhood. He had forgiven her, but the hurt was still there. Emma knew now that she had made an enormous mistake, and she wasn’t sure anything could ever make it right.

              Killian shuffled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ready?”

              Emma nodded, rolling her suitcase out the door. The Oklahoma air was sticky with humidity, but she still shivered as she locked the door behind her.

              “You know a motel needs to renovate when they still use keys,” she quipped, simply for lack of anything better to say.

              “I’m sorry you were stuck in this dump,” Killian apologized as he rolled her bag over the curb towards his truck.

              “It’s fine.”

              “You sure you’ll be able to get a flight?” he asked as he slid her bag behind the driver’s seat.

              “I told you. Kristoff works for Delta. He got me a buddy pass.”

              “You sure do have connections in Atlanta. Elsa working at CNN, Delta . . . do you get free Chick-fil-A too? Lifetime supply of Coca Cola?”

              When he got a laugh out of her, he kept on. “Season passes to the Braves? The Falcons? The Hawks?”

              Emma wrinkled her nose. “The Hawks? Ew, who would want that?”

              They both laughed, strained, heavy, and awkward. Killian’s brow furrowed. “No wonder you don’t want to come home.”

              “Killian –“ Emma sighed.

              “You know Granny’s not going to be happy that you left without seeing her.” He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Emma wondered if it was an automatic thing.

              The moment was heavy with so many unspoken things, that she wasn’t sure what to say. In the end, she never had to. Ruby came running up at that exact moment, breathless with excitement.

              “It’s happening, Killian,” she said, a bright smile on her face, “we could get DOT in the air this time, I can feel it.”

              An almost manic smile filled his face, and he shook Ruby by both shoulders. “Get the camper ready, I’m right behind you!” It wasn’t until he had yanked the driver’s side door open that he remembered Emma. “I . . . Emma, it’s . . .”

              Suddenly, she no longer cared about storm cells, or Dorothy II, or any of it. Henry’s face swam in her mind’s eye, and the man in front of her was the father of her child.

              “There will be other storms,” she told him, crossing her arms resolutely over her chest.

              “Are you serious? After fours day of obsessing over the data coming in on the radar? You’re going to pass this up?”

              “I want to get home to my son!” she snapped.

              He glanced from her, to the horizon, and then at DOT II ready to go in the back of his truck. Then he gave her an apologetic frown. “We’ll get DOT in the air, then I’ll take you straight to the airport, I promise.”

              “Are _you_ serious? You make it sound like you’re swinging by for coffee or something. This is a freakin’ TORNADO, Killian!”

              “ _I KNOW!”_ he yelled back.

              Emma ran her hand wearily across her face. “Fine, then. But I’m staying here.”

              He frowned at her, a bit of conflict still evident in his eyes, but then he climbed behind the wheel and pulled quickly out of the space. Suddenly fear welled up in her that this could be the last time she ever saw him, and her feet seemed to race across the asphalt without conscious thought. He seemed to almost anticipate her actions, screeching to a stop and then reaching over to open the passenger side door.

              “Get in.”

              “You better keep us alive, Jones,” she told him as she slammed the door shut.

              “It’s what I’m good at, love,” he replied with a wink.

              Emma shook her head as he peeled out of the parking lot. He was in his element, drunk with adrenaline, but her own heart was in her throat. The coordinates Smee was feeding them sent them off the paved roads and bumping down a rutted drive that cut through high weeds. Emma pressed her hand against the roof of the truck as they bounced along.

              “It’s turning east!” Smee shouted over the cell, and Killian jerked the wheel suddenly, almost sending the truck up on two wheels. They careened out onto a paved road. DOT rattled in the truck bed, and Killian swore as he glanced at the machine over his shoulder.

              “KILLIAN!” Emma screamed, and Killian turned the wheel hard as he slammed on the breaks, sending the truck skidding sideways to a stop. The wind whipped Emma’s hair as she climbed through the back window of the cab to help Killian unhook DOT and get her into position. Once it was on the ground, Emma hopped out of the bed with Killian’s help, and the two of them ran across the asphalt with DOT. The funnel skated across the ground, looking as if it was approaching their position slowly. But Emma knew far too well that looks could be deceiving, and she yanked on Killian’s arm to get out of the way.

              They raced for the truck, and Killian sped away, following Smee’s instructions to get them – hopefully – a safe distance from the tornado. Killian turned the truck sharply to face the oncoming storm, almost giving Emma whiplash. No wonder the thing was always breaking down.

              They sat there, leaning forward to focus on DOT II sitting there in the middle of the road. It shook and rattled as the storm got closer and closer.

              “Come on, come on,” Killian muttered, “take her!”

              The storm sucked at the machine, and it went sliding sideways before tipping over, skattering its sensors all over the road.

              “Bloody hell!” Killian shouted, and before Emma knew what he was doing, he was leaping out of the truck and running straight for the twister.

              “KILLIAN!” she screamed for the second time in fifteen minutes as she dashed out into the lashing rain and wind. Hail pelted her, but she didn’t care as she ran as fast as she possibly could. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to physically hold him back, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by while he ran into a tornado like a complete idiot. So she did the only thing she could think to do; she tackled him.

              Thankfully, she hit him sideways, sending him colliding with the dirt on the side of the road rather than the slamming him into the surface of the highway. Emma grunted, pushing her hair out of her face to look down at Killian. He had his eyes closed, his face twisted into a grimace. She looked up and let out a long, relieved breath when she saw the funnel dissipate, seeming to fold itself back up into the thick clouds overhead.

              “Have you lost your bloody mind!” Killian yelled as he shoved her off.

              Emma rolled onto her rear, her hands colliding with the ground as she caught herself. Killian was already sprinting for the equipment, frantically righting DOT and checking the machinery. Emma felt rage rise up white and hot inside until she could practically see stars. She scrambled to her feet and took off after him. She scooped up sensors as she ran, and when she got near enough, she starting throwing them at Killian as hard as she could.

              “You _have_ gone insane!” he screamed at her as he ducked from the onslaught. “You _know_ how expensive these things are!”

              “They’re not worth as much as your life!” She was hysterical now, her voice sore from screaming and tears streaming down her face. “You think I’m gonna sit there and watch you get sucked into a storm?”

              He tossed a handful of sensors she had thrown at him into the machine and stalked towards her, his entire posture radiating aggression. “You know how important this is to me! To us!”

              “No,” Emma shook her head, then pushed as hard as she could at his chest, “not to me. What’s important to me is _you_ , Killian!”

              “Oh really? I’m so important that you left me with no explanation, without even telling me I was about to be a father!”

              “Because I didn’t want our kid to become an orphan like we did!”             

              She screamed the confession so loudly, it seemed to reverberate across the flat plains of Oklahoma. The ensuing silence between both of them was as heavy as the humidity, both of their chests heaving, their eyes wide in shock at her words. Emma deflated, glancing away from him and hugging herself. Where was that damn chill coming from, anyway?

              “The second I knew I was pregnant, everything changed,” she continued softly. “I was scared to death; not of becoming a mother, but of our way of life. It wasn’t just us anymore.”

              “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

              Emma rolled her eyes. “Like that would have mattered. I knew you could never stop. I understand the addiction, the adrenaline rush. But with you, it’s more than that. This . . . “ she gestured around them, “you’re obsessed, Killian.”

              He tilted his head up to the sky, both hands clenched at his sides. Emma reached out to him, taking his hands and slowly uncurling his fingers.

              “It wasn’t your fault,” Emma whispered.

              He opened his eyes to pin her with a tortured gaze. “Wasn’t it though? If I hadn’t hesitated, if I hadn’t wanted the dog-“

              “Was my brother at fault then for my parents’ deaths?” she interrupted.

              “He was just a kid.”

              Emma laced their fingers together and took a step closer. “So were you.”

              Killian crumbled then, dropping his head to her shoulder. She slid her hands up his back and buried her fingers in his hair as sobs wracked his body. “Liam . . .” he choked.

              “I know,” she soothed, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ya'll, I am seriously giddy with excitement about writing the next chapter . . . I think you're gonna like it . . .


	18. Twister: Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much plot in this chapter, but I think you'll all enjoy where it goes ;)

              The sound of the camper coming to a screeching halt behind them caused Killian to pull away from her. He turned his back on his team and paced several steps away, his head in his hands. Once the others jumped out of the camper, he had composed himself. Yet he gave Emma a wobbly smile and squeezed her hand.

              “It didn’t work,” Ruby muttered, going straight for the machine, “it still didn’t work!”

              “It was only an F2, boss,” Smee spoke up, removing his red cap and twisting it in his hands, “smaller than the last one. Maybe it just wasn’t strong enough to take her.”

              Killian patted Smee reassuringly on the shoulder as he walked past, headed for the truck. Wordlessly, he climbed in, then rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Emma’s heart ached as she watched him.

              “What’s up with him?” Ruby asked.

              Emma shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s just get this thing back in the truck.”

              Smee and Ruby stood there dumbly in the road watching her.

              “It doesn’t look like nothing,” said Ruby hesitantly.

              “He just needs a minute, alright?” Emma snapped, and the two of them rushed to help her with DOT.

              Once they got the machine loaded, Emma said nothing as she climbed into the passenger seat. Killian simply took his right hand off the steering wheel to reach over and grab hers. Emma just stared at their intertwined fingers.

              “Uh, boss.”

              Smee was standing at the driver’s side window, his hat practically in knots. He never did like it when Killian got moody. He cleared his throat before continuing.

              “We’re only 15 minutes away from Laverty, and um . . . Ruby thought Granny would like to see Emma, so . . . “ the man shuffled his feet.

              Emma leaned over the console after feeling the slightest pressure from Killian’s fingers. She glanced at him long enough to see the tiniest glimmer in his eyes.

              “Sure, Smee,” she told him, “it’s been way too long since I’ve been home.”

              As Smee turned, whooping as he ran to the camper with the good news, Killian turned to Emma with a smile on his lips. He brushed a kiss to her knuckles before starting the truck.

              “Home. You don’t know how much it means to hear you use that word, Swan.”

                            *****************************************************

              Her room still hadn’t changed. The walls were still painted a pale yellow, the same white daisy wallpaper border at the top. The frilly white curtains with the pattern of tiny buttercups still fluttered at the window. She still remembered when she was eleven and Granny had just finished decorating it. She had asked Emma for her favorite color and flower. “They didn’t have buttercup wallpaper,” she had apologized, “so I hope you like daisies.”

              Granny had asked to adopt her. Killian, too. But neither one of them wanted to let go of the families they had lost, not completely, and Granny had understood. But decorating this room just for Emma had been her way of saying that no matter what her birth certificate said, Emma was home.

              She had been nervous coming here. When she ran and hid from Killian, it meant hiding from Ruby and Granny too. They hadn’t known about Henry either. But just like Ruby, Granny didn’t get angry. She just hugged Emma tight and insisted she sit down immediately and show her every picture she had of her new grandbaby.

              “Don’t you mean _great_ grandbaby?” Killian had teased, earning him a glare over their foster mother’s bifocals. They only called her Granny because Ruby did. Though she was more like a mother to Ruby than a grandmother too, having raised her since Ruby’s mother died of a drug overdose at seventeen.

              Emma shimmied out of her blue jeans and slipped into a pair of pajama shorts. Then she pulled her thin sweater over her head and tossed it on the floor too. Then she unhooked her bra, maneuvered it out from under her tank top and added it to the pile in the corner. Killian always lectured her about her messy habits. His room down the hall was always kept so clean it would have passed a military inspection.

              She wondered idly as she slipped between the cool sheets if his room looked the same too; navy walls with that anchor wallpaper border. He used to dream of the ocean, hadn’t he? Yet here he still was in the landlocked Midwest. She ached for him to let go, and not just for her and Henry.

              Emma rolled onto her back and flung her arm over her forehead. The ceiling fan was still the same too – that faux white wicker. It always made a funny whistling sound as the air passed through the gaps in the wood. She remembered lying in Killian’s arms as the sun came up, the slow movements of the fan casting shadows on the wall. She remembered him trailing kisses down her bare shoulder and laughing about what an impractical ceiling fan it was. Funny the tiny details a person remembers. She rolled over on her side to face the wall. This room hadn’t changed, and that fact made her heart race with so many memories. It was the same bed, too. She had grown up in this bed; in more ways than one.

              She wasn’t surprised when she heard the door slowly creak open or when the bed dipped behind her. Then his arms were around her, and she felt herself finally relax into the mattress. He pulled her closer, and she didn’t resist. It was all so easy to fall back into.

              “I couldn’t sleep,” Killian mumbled into her hair, nuzzling his nose against her neck.

              Emma snorted. “We said goodnight like ten minutes ago. I don’t think you tried.”

              His arm shifted to her hip and she rolled over on her back to face him. He smiled down at her, propping his head on his other hand. The one at her hip made lazy circles, fiddling with the fabric that barely skimmed her thigh. It sent shivers through her that she tried to ignore.

              “I’ve never slept very well in that room,” he told her. Then his smile turned more salacious. “I’ve always preferred your bed.”

              Emma rolled her eyes. “When you think about this bed, you aren’t thinking about sleeping.”

              Killian chuckled, his hand drifting up to her waist. His fingers teased with the hem of her shirt. “Hmm, we did make a lot of memories in this bed.”

              “Killy!’ she gasped, smacking him in the chest.

              “Ow!” he protested, rubbing at the spot where she hit him, “I was thinking about when we were kids, for your information.”

              “Right. You mean when we were fourteen and sixteen, and you finally made it to second base right before Granny barged in?”

              He groaned a bit melodramatically as he rolled backwards onto the pillow. “Don’t remind me. That was the most humiliating moment of my life!”

              Emma, rolled over too, propping her chin up on his bare chest. Maybe not the smartest idea, but everything with Killian was just so _natural_ , it was almost subconcsiou. “Just humiliating?” she teased.

              He grinned down at her and winked. “No. Also glorious and life changing, and God you have gorgeous breasts!”

              She bit her lower lip, and that probably wasn’t conscious either. Maybe. “At fourteen? I doubt it.”

              “Oh, but they were,” he told her in a completely sincere voice.

He rubbed his hand up and down her back, and she was suddenly aware of every point where their bodies touched, especially her breasts pressed against his chest with only the thin fabric of her tank top between their skin. She swallowed and pulled away from him, pulling the blanket up as she rested back against her pillow. But Killian wasn’t letting her get away quite so easily. He rolled on his side so he could look down at her again. He reached down and traced her jaw with his fingertip.

“But,” he told her softly, “being completely serious, I also remember being a scared kid of twelve who hadn’t slept since he lost his father and brother on the same day. And then you came, this beautiful but sad little girl, and we understood one another. I heard you crying that first night, the same way I still did each night. So I snuck in here, and –“

“You said _it’s okay to cry; I cry too._ ” Emma took a deep breath, remembering Killian as a scrawny kid, standing in her doorway with his hair sticking up on his head.

“You reached your hand out,” he continued, “and you asked me to stay with you.”

His fingers were in her hair now, and her resolve was crumbling. He had stayed that night, her first night in this room; had lain there next to her, a little awkwardly, holding her hand until she fell asleep. He came to her room almost every night, unbeknownst to Granny. Some nights he tiptoed back to his own room, but other nights he stayed. His awkwardness eventually melted away. He would read to her by the light of a flashlight, giggle with her under the covers as they planned how to get back at the bullies at school, or sit by the window as he taught her all the constellations. He shared memories about his brother, and she would tell him about her parents.

And one night, when she was thirteen, something shifted. He was suddenly looking at her the way he was right now, his fingers finding their way to her hair. He whispered how beautiful she was, and then his lips were on hers, chaste and slightly awkward. And it was here that he had held her and told her in between kisses that he loved her and always would.

When she was sixteen, he slipped into her room after his high school graduation. She had wanted to give herself to him completely, but he was afraid she was too young. It wasn’t their first fight, but probably their worst one. She was scared, terrified, that he would forget her while away at college. Get too mature for her, and never come home again.

But he had proved her wrong. Love letters weren’t really a thing anymore. For everyone but Killian Jones, that is. Because he wrote her. Not just emails, but actual letters that came in the mail. Poetic, beautiful things in his ridiculously pretty handwriting. Granny of course commented on how overly dramatic it was since he drove home to see her practically every weekend. She was always calling Killian dramatic.

And when he came home for Thanksgiving, as Granny served his welcome home dinner, Emma had leaned over and whispered in his ear what she was planning for him that night in her room. She ran her hand up his thigh to punctuate her point. He almost choked on his iced tea and kicked the table so hard that Granny’s lasagna almost went sliding to the floor. She giggled now at the memory.

“What?” he asked her in the present, his fingers still entangled in her hair.

“I’m just remembering things,” she told him, reaching up to touch his scar. The one he got when the barn door hit him beneath the overpass when he was twelve. He turned his face to kiss her palm, and something broke open and unfurled inside of her chest.

“Emma,” he breathed.

She slid her hand up to dig her fingers through his hair and pull him down to her. Their lips slid over each other in a familiar dance, and Emma sighed into it, her lips parting to let him in. His hands traced the curves of her body, his touch igniting her in a way no one else ever could. Her back arched up off the mattress as his mouth latched onto her neck and his hand slipped up her shirt, cupping her breast.

“Killian,” she moaned.

She meant to say something else; about how she just broke off an engagement to another man, how they couldn’t just pick back up where they left off, how they hadn’t really finished their earlier conversation. Talk. She meant to say they should talk. But instead she peeled off her tank top and added it to the pile on the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will only be one more chapter to Twister, and then I am actually planning an AU of the movie Priceless. I know it has a heavy topic (human trafficking), but the idea just won't leave me alone. As a matter of fact, I have so many movie AU ideas that I have changed the title of this to Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com 2nd Edition. I won't be able to stop after the New Year!


	19. Twister: Ch 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale of Twister, everybody! Hope you all enjoy it! This was a movie au I never would have considered without yayimallamaagain on tumblr. I'm so glad I did this one, it's been a blast.

The sunlight when Emma opened her eyes the next morning was dappled as it streamed in through the filmy lace curtains. Her head was pillowed against Killian’s warm chest, his arm wrapped loosely around her hip. She craned her neck to find him still asleep. His face always looked so relaxed in sleep, free from the lines that he held most of the time, even when he was young. His confidence and swagger made people believe he hadn’t a care in the world, but Emma could always see through it. 

_It wasn’t your fault,_ she had told him yesterday. And she could see from the tortured gaze in his eyes that he had a hard time believing it, even now. But here in this room, all that guilt, all that tension left him. It had always been that way. 

As she had drifted off to sleep, sated and hair still slightly damp from their extremely enjoyable exertion, she had worried if the morning light would bring panic. Instead, she lay here feeling a peace that had eluded her since the day she ran. The day she ran. She could admit it now. 

Still she gazed at him. She had never forgotten how beautiful he was, but seeing it up close here in his embrace was different. The sculpted muscles of his chest, rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair sticking up messily the way it had the night he first stood in her bedroom doorway, the masculine line of his jaw covered in ginger-dotted scruff. His head lay sideways on the pillow, showing off his neck. He had a great one that she loved to nuzzle with her nose and nip with her teeth. And those ears, slightly pointed. Even at ten she had been fascinated by those ears. 

The nuzzling and nipping was suddenly extremely tempting on that inviting neck and adorable ears, but then he would wake up, and she didn’t think she could handle his sleepy gaze in the light of day. They needed to talk about what this meant, and she had a feeling that wouldn’t happen with both of them naked and still in that delicious hazy bubble of intimacy. She slipped out of his embrace as carefully as she could, grabbing up her clothes and tiptoeing into the on-suite bathroom. 

She slipped into a comfortable t-shirt and jeans, threw her hair up into a messy ponytail, and then tiptoed from the room.  The hallway was silent, so she figured Ruby and Ariel were still asleep. Smee had bunked down in the camper. She walked as quietly as she could down the stairs. The living room was empty, but she heard someone puttering around in the kitchen along with delicious smells both sweet and savory. She heard the crackling of bacon as she drew closer to the kitchen, and when she stepped through the open doorway, she found Granny at work in front of the stove. 

“It’s rare for you to be the first one up,” she commented as she turned and slid a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon across the kitchen island towards Emma. 

Emma settled onto the bar stool with a shrug as Granny leveled her with a scrutinizing gaze. A blush inexplicably rose to her cheeks. 

“Don’t break his heart again,” Granny told her with no preamble. 

“I - what – why would you,” Emma stuttered. 

“Please,” she scoffed as she turned back to the sizzling bacon on the stove, “you two have always thought I was too stupid to know what was going on right under my own roof. I know Killian never slept in his bed last night. And I may be in my seventies, but I know a woman’s  _I just got laid_ blush.”

Emma choked on her eggs. 

Granny continued as if she weren’t making Emma turn ten shades of red. “Do you have any idea the constant worry I was in from the moment I caught you two half-undressed as teenagers? I should have told them to find one of you another home, but God forgive me, I loved you both too much to let either one of you go.”

She turned then, giving Emma a knowing grin over the rim of her coffee mug. 

“We weren’t having sex!” Emma protested, squirming on her stool as if she were fourteen again. 

“Well I wasn’t taking any chances.”

Emma snorted as she swallowed a bite of egg. “Yeah, I know. You marched me down to that clinic and got me birth control pills. I thought I might die of humiliation.”

Granny laughed. “That was nothing compared to Killian’s reaction when I showed him the condoms I’d put in his nightstand.”

Emma was able to laugh too, then. 

“I thought the poor boy would faint right then and there, he turned so pale. Those eyes of his big as saucers.” Granny shook her head as she set her mug down on the island. “But Emma, honey, that boy has loved you since the second he laid eyes on you. He may have only been twelve, but I’ll never forget the look on his face when you stepped out of the social worker’s car that day.”

“I’ve loved him too,” Emma whispered, “for as long as I can remember. I never meant to hurt him. I was just -”

“Scared,” Granny finished for her. She reached over and squeezed her hand, “I know, honey.”

“Am I uh – interrupting something?”

Granny looked up, and Emma swiveled towards the doorway at the voice. Killian stood there, nervously scratching behind his ear. He must have taken a quick shower because his hair was wet and combed. His eyes bounced off Emma’s a bit nervously, and Emma suddenly knew what Granny meant by the  _I just got laid_ blush. Granny told him to have a seat as she set another place, and Killian took it, offering Emma a small smile. 

“See what I mean,” Granny quipped, “you two were looking at each other the same way Thanksgiving morning Killian’s first year of college, and I knew he’d finally opened that box of condoms.”

It was Killian’s turn to choke on his eggs, and Granny laughed. 

“You both had the goofiest grins on your faces, and I knew it wasn’t my sweet potato pancakes.”

“Those were some damn good pancakes,” Killian quipped right back, a crooked smile on his face even as the tips of his ears burned red.

“Did somebody say something about pancakes?”

Ruby’s voice was scratchy as she shuffled into the kitchen, her hair a mess and still in her pajamas. She was a night owl who hated mornings. Ariel skipped in behind her in a cute outfit, hair perfect and makeup already done. Ruby scowled at her perky friend as she plopped down on the bar stool beside Emma. 

“No pancakes,” Granny answered as she opened the oven door, “but I did make cinnamon rolls.”

Ruby, Emma, and Killian all cheered as if they were kids again. Granny set the pan down on the 

Island and swatted at their hands as they reached for the gooey rolls. 

“Let me get the spatula before you burn your fingers.”

Emma exchanged glances with first Killian and then Ruby. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her unconventional family. She hadn’t realized how much Henry needed this; how much  _she_ needed this. And she knew in that moment that her life needed a drastic change. For Henry’s sake and hers. Okay, and for Killian’s sake too.

Emma had just taken her first bite of cinnamon roll when Smee came bursting through the kitchen door, the screen banging shut behind him. 

“This is it!” he shouted, his cheeks red and his hands trembling as he twisted his knit cap. “Something’s brewing just west of her, and whatever it is, it’s big. It’ll get Dot in the air for sure! Could be a category 4.”

Ruby was suddenly wide awake, whooping loudly before shoving half a cinnamon roll in her mouth. Ariel bounced up from her seat, hugging Killian from behind and shaking him with glee. Ruby was running back and forth like a hamster in a cage, not sure if she should join Smee to prep the machine or get dressed first. 

Killian on the other hand sat with both fists clenched on top of the kitchen island, his head down, jaw clenching. Emma watched him, her brow furrowed with both confusion and concern. It was the type of storm they had been waiting for, so why wasn’t he running for the truck? He finally lifted his head and turned to her with intensity in his eyes and a soft smile upon his face. 

“I’m not going.”

His words were like a thunder clap that instantly stilled the excitement in the room. Ariel pulled  away from him as if she didn’t recognize him. Smee was so shocked he dropped his precious cap on the ground, then stumbled when he bent to retrieve it. Ruby’s eyes grew wide, then she blinked and rapidly shook her head. 

“What the hell?” she sputtered.

“Ruby -” he started.

“No,” she silenced him, “we’ve been risking our lives, running all over tornado alley like a bunch of insane people, and now that we’ve got the perfect conditions to make all our hard work pay off, you’re just gonna say no?”

Killian stood slowly. “Look, I’m not saying you all shouldn’t go. As a matter of fact, I want you to. Rubes, you know Dot even better than I do at this point. Smee is the best storm tracker in the business, and Ariel can analyze all the data with her eyes closed. Face it, you don’t really need me anymore.”

“Wait?” Smee asked, nervously putting his hat on, then taking it off again, “Are you saying you’re quitting for good? Or just sitting this one out?”

Emma had been frozen in her seat, following the back and forth like it was a tennis match. She knew her mouth was probably hanging open, too. That was confirmed when Kilian’s gaze traveled back to hers, and she had to snap it shut. The moment was so heavy she could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears. 

“I’m saying,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, “that I’ve chased my last storm.” Amidst the cries of protest from Smee, Ruby, and Ariel he reached his hand out to Emma. “Can we talk privately?”

She bit on her lower lip, wondering if she was still asleep and possibly dreaming as she rose to follow him into the living room. As she walked through the doorway, she glanced back to see Granny with her hand pressed to her mouth and tears shimmering behind her bifocals. 

Once they were far enough away from the arguing in the kitchen, Killian turned to Emma and took both of her hands in his. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs as he spoke. 

“Emma, I know last night didn’t fix everything between us. We have a lot to figure out, I know that. But this isn’t about me or us, this is about our son. About me being a father. I can’t risk my life anymore. Not when Henry needs me.” He tore his gaze from hers to face the window. The blue morning sky glittered before them. Wherever the storm cell was, it was far away from here, at least for now. He sighed wistfully. “And you were right. All these years, I’ve been paying penance, or trying to. Thinking that I had to make what happened to Liam right.”

Emma released his hands so she could grasp his face and gently turn it towards her. “Hey, listen to me. You also have a bit of a hero complex.”

He chuckled sheepishly, his lashes lowering bashfully. She rubbed her thumbs along his cheekbones. He stepped closer, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I still love you, Emma. I never stopped.”

“I know,” she whispered, “but -”

He silenced her with a chaste kiss. “But you need time. I get it. Being Henry’s father is non-negotiable. But us? Whatever we become from here is up to you as much as it is to me. We’ll go at your pace.” 

Then he drew Emma into his embrace, and she was finally able to nuzzle against that neck she loved so much. She wasn’t sure they could ever be anything less than soul mates. He rubbed her back with one hand and buried the other in her hair. 

“I will be moving to Atlanta, though. I can’t have several states between me and Henry. They may not have any more openings at the Weather Channel, but I’m sure some local station will have me.” He pulled back to give her his most flirtatious grin. 

Emma shook her head and smiled. “Oh God, they’ll be fighting over you. Every woman in Atlanta will gladly wake up to get their weather report from a man as sexy as you.”

He raised both eyebrows, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh, so I’m sexy, huh?”

Emma swatted him in the chest and rolled her eyes. “Please, as if you don’t know.”

He laughed, but then his features quickly morphed into a serious expression. “It is alright, though? Me moving to be closer?”

“Of course. Henry needs you in his life.” She bit her tongue before she could blurt out that  _she_ needed him too. Instead, she pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. When she pulled away, his smile told her that he knew what she was thinking anyway. 

“I knew it! They got back together.”

They jumped apart and turned to see Ruby standing there with her hands on her hips. She was pretending to be pissed, but the tiny smile quirking the corner of her mouth gave her away. 

“Did you hear that, Smee?” she shouted as she turned back towards the kitchen. “You owe me twenty bucks!”

**************************************************

Emma had the window down, letting the air tug wisps of hair from her ponytail. Killian was

tapping his fingers on the steering wheel of Granny’s old pickup to the beat of the song playing on the radio. She could honestly say she hadn’t been this happy since she left Oklahoma. 

“I can’t wait to see Henry,” Emma said.

Killian smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him. Those Skype calls just weren’t enough.”

Emma reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Please forgive me for keeping him from you. It was  _so_ wrong.”

He took one hand off the wheel to squeeze her hand. “You already said that, Swan. And I already forgave you.” He then took her hand from his shoulder and pressed a kiss to it. Emma threaded their fingers together as he rested their hands on his knee, scooting across the bench seat to rest her head on his shoulder. 

“You need to be in your seatbelt,” he told her, but his words were belied by the kiss he pressed to the top of her head. 

Butterflies were doing the conga in Emma’s stomach. Were they really doing this? Were they really driving to Killian’s apartment so he could pack a few things? Were they really taking a flight back to Atlanta? Together? She kept expecting to wake up in her room back at Granny’s, cold and alone. 

Killian began to sing along to another song on the radio, something soft and low. The warm breeze combined with his voice lulled Emma to sleep. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had drifted off when Killian’s phone jolted her awake. She blinked her bleary eyes and ran her tongue over her dry lips as Killian answered. His widening eyes and sudden clenching of the steering wheel woke her up fully. 

“What?” he said, voice rising. 

Emma’s heartbeat tripled as she grasped his arm. “What? What's happened?”

“Thanks, Smee, I'm on my way.” Killian tossed the phone aside as he took an abrupt turn onto the shoulder of the road. The truck bounced as he turned them around to head back the way they had just come. 

“The storm took a sharp turn east,” Killian explained, jaw clenching, “an F4 tornado just touched down. No warning.”

Emma gasped, her fingers digging into Killian’s arm. “Where?”

But she knew even before the word left Killian’s lips, “Home.”

***********************************************

Emma and Killian had wanted to ride in the ambulance too, but the rules only allowed for one ride along. They all knew it had to be Ruby. Granny had been incoherent, her bloody face rolling side to side on the stretcher, moans of pain the only thing falling from her lips. Emma stood now in front of the rubble that used to be their home, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Her finger nails dug into her upper arms as the rage seethed beneath her skin. She pressed her eyelids closed as the tears welled up. Another home reduced to a pile of kindling. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. An odd screeching sound brought Emma’s head up. The only thing that remained of Granny’s precious house was the railing of the kitchen porch. Hanging crazily from one post was a homemade windcatcher made of aluminum soda cans. Emma choked on a laugh which turned into a sob as it left her throat. They were always teasing Granny about those ugly things. 

Killian came up behind her and wrapped her up in his arms. He rested his chin on her head and she leaned back into him. He said nothing, no hope speeches, no easy platitudes. He was never one for those, and she had always loved that about him. 

“They had no warning,” she said.

“I know.”

She watched the windmill of cut aluminum spin faster in a sudden breeze. She stepped from Killian’s embrace to come closer, mesmerized by the whirling colors. Killian followed a step behind.

“Did you know,” Emma said softly, still not turning to look at him, “that they found my mother’s body in a tree a mile away from our farmhouse?”

“Emma -”

She cut him off with a raised hand as she turned to face him. “My father still held my brother in his arms, shielding him with his body. But it didn’t matter.” She shook her head, lips pressed together as tears tracked down her cheeks. “Not when the roof came down on them.”

“Emma,” he said again, reaching for her, “don’t do this to yourself.”

“No!” Emma said, stepping away and turning back to stare at Granny’s windcatcher. 

She heard Killian drop his arms, his palms slapping against his thighs. She crossed her arms again, her eyes narrowing as she made a decision.

“We need to chase one more storm,” she finally said. 

She turned to face Killian with a determined look on her face. Ariel and Smee had joined him, and all three of them looked at her as if she’d finally snapped. 

“Emma,” Killian said her name for a third time, voice gentle, “we decided that storm chasing does nothing to change anything.”

“Not the past,” Emma said, voice growing in excitement, “but it can change the future.” She gestured to the destruction up and down the residential street. “Remember our dream? Of preventing things like this? If we get those sensors in the air, if we can map a tornado like we dreamed, we could better predict these things. Give people time to take shelter.”

Killian ran both hands through his hair. “But you saw it for yourself. We can’t seem to get Dot airborne.”

Emma smiled as she looked at the windcatcher again. “Maybe it isn’t Dot that needs to fly.” She looked at Killian with a sparkle in her eyes. “And we’ve been thinking of the wrong story. Remember  _Peter Pan_? Think of the sensors like the fairies. We just need to give them wings.”

***********************************************

By the time the four of them were chasing the twister that had formed from the storm cell, they all had band aids covering their fingers. They had dug out Granny’s large collection of soda cans from the debris and used them to attach aluminum “wings” to each and every sensor. Emma almost lost her balance as the camper bounced along.

“Quit getting up!” Killian shouted at her from the driver’s seat of the camper.

“I’m just trying to give Ariel a hand,” Emma shouted back. “We don’t have Ruby, remember?”

“Well then, hang on!” he took a sharp curve while shouting coordinates to Smee in the pickup. Emma grabbed onto the countertop of the kitchenette behind her. Ariel paid no mind to the bouncing, since she was strapped into her chair in front of the computers. 

“Drop location is precisely half a mile a head!” Ariel shouted to Killian. “Or should be,” she grumbled under her breath, her lips moving in a silent prayer. Emma had been in the business long enough to know the truth of that statement. 

Killian relayed the information to Smee, then turned off the side of the road. He unbuckled and climbed back to join Emma and Ariel at the radar. 

“I hope Smee’s ready for this,” he grumbled, grasping Emma’s hand tightly. 

She squeezed it back in understanding. Killian had been adamant about keeping he and Emma as far away from the storm as possible. Relatively speaking, anyway. So Smee had volunteered to drop Dot. 

The silence in the camper was palpable as the three of them intently watched first the radar, then the data from the machine, and back again. Smee was no longer reachable because he was so close to the storm, but a blinking blue light on the screen showed where Dot was in relation to the funnel cloud. The funnel moved closer, and closer . . . Emma realized she was holding her breath. And then . . . 

Ariel’s scream almost pierced Emma’s ear drum as dozens of yellow lights lit up her computer screen. Data poured in as the red head scrambled to input all of it. Killian pressed Emma to him and kissed her soundly. 

“We did it, Swan, we did it!” he wept into her ear as he held her close. 

“It’s mapping the storm,” Ariel whispered, “look at this! Temperature readings within the funnel, barometric pressure, I mean, we’ve got to analyze all this but . . . but  . . . “

Killian yanked a giddy Ariel out of her chair and spun her around awkwardly in the small space. Then Emma and Ariel embraced. They were laughing and crying as Smee burst into the camper and joined the insane celebration. Killian took the man’s cap off his head and planted a smacking kiss to his balding pate. The camper was practically shaking with their collective excitement. 

“Ruby is going to be so pissed that she missed this!” Ariel laughed. 

“Ruby!” Killian cried, grabbing Emma. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the hospital!”

Despite her worries for Granny, Emma was on cloud nine as they clambered into the truck. Rain was pouring down, but Emma didn’t care. She yanked Killian towards her, tangling her tongue with his in a sloppy kiss as he started the truck, and he laughed against her mouth. They got the truck on the road, the windshield wipers beating a soothing rhythm. 

Until they weren’t. 

The hair on Emma’s arms stood on end as the rain suddenly stopped and an unsettled calm filled the air. A loud whistle pierced the air just as Smee’s voice came crackling through Killian’s walkie talkie. 

“Boss, the storm, it’s -”

“Right on top of us,” Emma finished as she turned to look out the back window of the truck. An F4 if she ever saw one, sending dirt across the sky turning the late afternoon pitch black. Killian swerved the truck onto a dirt road to their left. A farmhouse sat at the end of the lane, and a terrified family with small children were racing across the lawn to a storm shelter. Killian laid on the horn to get their attention, but the storm swallowed the sound. Emma looked behind her again, terror turning her blood cold. It was closer. 

Killian had the pedal all the way to the floor board, but still the storm was gaining on them. He put on the brakes when they got close to the storm cellar, and he dragged Emma across the bench seats, as if he were too afraid to have the truck between them. They ran as fast as they could to the storm cellar, but Kilian couldn’t get it open. They kicked on it, pounded on it, but they knew it was useless. They couldn’t even hear each other over the roar of the storm. The family likely had no idea they were even there. 

Killian gestured to the barn, and Emma nodded. Sometimes farms had barn cellars for storage. It was their only chance. It took both of them to open the barn door against the force of the storm. Once inside, they frantically shoved aside hay with their hands and feet until finally, thankfully, Killian found a metal ring imbedded in the floor. He yanked on it to reveal a cellar filled with hay. 

“Get in,” he shouted, pushing her towards the hay crib.

Images of her mother suddenly flashed through Emma’s brain. That final expression on her face just before she shoved Emma into the storm cellar. “Hell no,” Emma muttered under her breath, and before Killian could react, she threw her arms around him in a bear hug and pitched both of them into the dark barn cellar. The hay cushioned their fall somewhat, but Emma still groaned as sharp pain radiated from her shoulder at the impact. Above their heads, the door slammed shut and darkness enveloped them. 

******************************************************

“Here they are!”

Emma could hear Smee far above, and she could even see a bit of sunlight out of the corner of

 her eyes. But she didn’t care about any of it. Not when Killian’s body was pressed against hers, one hand tangled in her hair, the other one sliding up her shirt, his mouth fused with hers. She could hear the silence around them, knew the storm was over, but she didn’t care about that either. A thought niggled the back of her mind, the thought that if Ariel came running, she probably didn’t want to see the two of them literally rolling in the hay, but once again, she just didn’t care. 

Killian broke their kiss just long enough to shout up at Smee, “Can’t you see we need a minute?”

Emma shook her head and laughed as he grinned down at her; she could just make out the blue of his eyes and the white of his teeth in the pitch dark of the hay crib as he returned her smile. He then dove back in to kiss her again, the heat of it muddling every coherent thought in her head. The hay was probably dirty, and she should probably be concerned about what could be living down here, but all that mattered was the man who held her. She was finally home. 

********************************************************

Killian grabbed her elbow loosely as she reached for the doorknob. 

“Are you sure he’s ready for this?” he scratched behind his ear, then dropped his hand to rub 

nervously at his scruff. “I mean, I’ve missed the first two years of his life, and . . . “ 

Emma smiled at him gently as she took his hand and squeezed it. “He’s been Skyping with you for weeks now. He likes you already, I can tell. And we’re not telling him you’re his father today. We’ll ease into this, alright? Let you two get to know each other first.”

He nodded and let out a shaky breath. She brushed a kiss to his cheek, then let her nose drop to that delightful dip in his neck. His nervousness meeting their son was incredibly adorable, and truth be told, it was kind of turning her on. He brushed a kiss to the top of her head and gave her waist a squeeze. She stepped back from him, and he gave her a firm nod as he inhaled a sharp breath. She pushed the door open. 

Elsa was in the living room playing toy trains on the floor with Henry. The little boy squealed at the sight of his mother and tossed aside the little train in his hand to run for her. Emma knelt down and caught him as he flung himself into her arms. 

“Oh, I missed you, kiddo,” she murmured, pressing loud kisses to his cheek. Henry giggled, the sound turning her heart to mush. 

Elsa came forward and briefly introduced herself to Killian before turning to Emma and whispering in her ear. “I’ll just go to my room and let you three have some privacy.” She winked at Emma in encouragement before slipping out of the room.

Emma turned to Killian, and her heart went from mush to a puddle at her feet at the look in his eyes as he gazed in wonder at their son. She swallowed thickly before she could speak. “Henry, do you remember talking to Killian on Skype?”

Henry’s blue eyes were wide as he nodded his head. Emma took a step closer to Killian.

“Well, he wanted to meet you. Can you say hi?”

“Hi,” Henry mumbled shyly. He tucked his head under Emma’s chin, burying his face against her chest. 

Killian’s brow furrowed in concern, his eyes a bit hurt at Henry’s reluctance.  _He’s fine,_ Emma mouthed over the boy’s head. 

“Henry,” Killian said hesitantly, “I got you something. Do you want to see it?”

Henry turned his face to look at the man that he didn’t yet know was his father. He still kept his head resting on Emma’s chest as Killian moved over to the couch. Henry lifted his head in curiosity at the gift bag resting on Killian’s knees. Emma sat down on the couch slowly, and as she did, Henry reached out to peek into the bag. He then slid off his mother’s lap to get a better look. He smiled tentatively when he saw the contents, and looked up questioningly at the man before him.

“You can take it out,” Killian encouraged, “it’s yours.”

Henry grinned and reached into the bag to pull out the bright yellow dump truck. One of its wheels got caught on the handle, and Killian reached out to help him free it. Henry plopped down on the ground with the toy, pushing it back and forth as he made  _vrooming_ sounds. Killian slowly moved to the floor as well to sit next to the child.

“It’s got blocks, too, Henry,” he told him. Killian pushed the back of the dump truck so that the brightly colored blocks tumbled out on to the floor. “See?”

Henry gasped in surprise and delight, his eyes shining as they met Killian’s. He crawled over to collect the blocks and put them back in the truck only to dump them again. Before long, Killian was crawling around on the floor with him, making crashing noises as Henry made the dump truck drive over his trains. Emma sat back on the couch watching them, her heart swelling in her chest. 

An hour later, a tuckered out Henry had fallen asleep on Killian’s shoulder, and Emma didn’t think she had ever seen anything more beautiful. She couldn’t help the tears that suddenly coursed down her cheeks. Killian looked at her in alarm. 

“What is it, love?” he whispered. 

“Nothing,” she told him in a watery voice, “I’m just happy. I’m not quite used to it yet.”

“I know what you mean,” he whispered back, then he turned and kissed the top of Henry’s sweaty head. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next I have a special Christmas one shot in this series: an au of Sleepless in Seattle. Mine will have some major changes from the movie version, but I'm so excited to do it!


	20. Sleepless in Seattle: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Did I say this would be a one shot? Lol. I should have known myself better than to say that . . .   
> * Part one closely follows the movie, but parts two and three will deviate pretty far from the film to keep Emma and Killian in character.   
> * This has knightrook in it, just to warn you (ie Alice is Killian's daughter). Milah is her mother though, not Gothel. This is my first time writing this pairing. I wasn't a fan of season seven overall, but Colin and Rose Reynolds did an amazing job as Alice and Wish Hook. It was the only part I found myself getting invested in. But remember, this is a modern au, and Alice is a little girl in this, so keep an open mind?  
> * And this is set in the early nineties like the movie when people still used landline phones and wrote letters.

The thing about being ten is that people – well, grownups – tend to assume you aren’t paying attention. Especially when you’re a ten-year-old boy with your eyes glued to your Gameboy. Which is why Henry Swan’s Aunt Mary Margaret didn’t think anything of it when she started talking to his mother Emma about love and magic. 

Mary Margaret was one of those glass half full people, so naturally she assumed when her sister announced her engagement to Walsh Oaken, that Emma was head over heels, madly in love. Henry could have told her differently, but again, no one thought he was paying attention. His mom knew he couldn’t stand Walsh; Uncle David knew he couldn’t stand Walsh, even Aunt Mary Margaret knew. But everyone assumed he wouldn’t like  _anyone_ his mother dated, so no one thought to ask his opinion on the matter. 

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. His mom of course wanted to make sure he was okay with accepting Walsh’s proposal. “It’s not like he’s trying to be your dad,” she was quick to assure him, “you still come first, and the buck stops with me when it comes to raising you. But he’s nice, right? And responsible, and trustworthy . . .” 

She went on and on listing character traits like she was trying to sell Henry on the idea, so he told her the only thing he could: “I just want you to be happy, Mom.” And he did want her to be happy. He just didn’t think Walsh could make her feel that way. 

He knew that before Mary Margaret starting talking about magic, but his aunt’s story confirmed it. She had insisted that Emma take their mother’s wedding gown, actually begging her to try it on before they headed out to spend Christmas day with Walsh’s family on Cape Cod.

“Mother was tall like you,” Mary Margaret insisted when Emma shook her head in resistance, “that’s why I didn’t wear it. But it’ll look gorgeous on you, Emma!”

Henry’s mother had sighed and taken it into the loft’s bathroom. Uncle David busied himself with the dishes to give the ladies space, and Henry lost himself in a video game. Until he heard his aunt pestering his mom for the details to her and Walsh’s “love story.”

“How did you meet?”

Emma shrugged. “Well, you know, his furniture store is across the street from the paper, and one day we ordered lunch from the same place. He got my grilled cheese with onion rings, and I got his grilled cheese with fries.”

Mary Margaret sighed as she worked the long row of buttons on the antique dress. “It was fate!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fate is something we’ve made up because we can’t stand the fact that everything is a coincidence.”

“How can you say that? You both ordered the exact same sandwich just with different sides.” A dreamy look came over Mary Margaret’s face. “It’s just like when I met David.”

“You punched him in the face!”

“Oh stop,” Mary Margaret laughed, nudging Emma in the shoulder, “that was just a misunderstanding. But I remember the next day, I returned his mother’s ring that he had lost.” She let out a long, dreamy sigh. “His fingers brushed mine, and I felt it . . . “

Henry glanced up from his Gameboy when he noticed his mother’s silence. She was staring at her reflection in the mirror with a furrow between her brows. 

“Felt what?”

“You know,” Mary Margaret replied, in a tone that clearly said it should have been obvious, “magic.”

Henry watched his mother lower her gaze and fiddle with the sleeves of the dress. His aunt didn’t seem to notice as she reached for the veil.

“Let me,” Mary Margaret said, gesturing for Emma to turn around. She placed the crown of white roses on her sister’s blonde hair, the filmy cream veil flowing over the shimmery satin gown. Mary Margaret beamed. “You are so beautiful!”

Emma smiled back, and Mary Margaret bounced on her heels and squealed. Emma reached around to embrace her sister, and a loud ripping sound followed. Mary Margaret gasped as she delicately touched the ripped seam on the left sleeve of the dress. 

“It’s a sign!” Emma exclaimed with a frown. 

“You don’t believe in signs,” Mary Margaret pointed out.

Henry bit his lip as he stared down at the game in his hand. He didn’t need a sign at all. Whatever this magic was that Aunt Mary Margaret and Uncle David had, his mom clearly didn’t feel it with Walsh. 

*******************************************************

“Ok, kid, I know it’s almost midnight, but you’re gonna have to stay awake. I don’t think there’s 

enough coffee in the world to help me make it for the next three hours.”

“We could’ve just stayed in Maine,” Henry grumbled as he tucked his Gameboy away in his book bag. 

Emma sighed. “I know you’re used to Christmas with Mary Margaret, but Walsh wants to announce our engagement Christmas morning. I let you stay long enough to play Mario Brothers with Uncle David how many times? Hence the dark night and the vat of coffee I’m gonna need?”

Henry just turned to stare petulantly out the car window. HIs mother reached over and flipped on the radio. An irritating version of “Jingle Bells” with the constant sound of sleigh bells in the background blared through the speakers. His mom punched the button for the next station, and it too was playing “Jingle Bells” She punched it again, and it was “Jingle Bells” in Spanish. She punched it a third time.  _“_ _And now – Jingle Bells backwards!”_

Henry caught his mother’s glance, and they both laughed. She pushed the button again. 

**_“This is Marcia Fieldstone live from Chicago. Tonight’s topic: Your hopes and wishes this Christmas.”_ **

“And I wish to change the station,” his mother grumbled. 

“Hey wait!” Henry cried out. “I wanna hear that!”

Emma’s eyes widened as she looked at him, “Seriously?”

“It’s better than Jingle Bells a thousand times.”

Emma shrugged and put both hands on the wheel.

**_“This is Dr. Fieldstone, you’re live on the air.”_ **

**_“Hi! I’m Alice.”_ **

It was a little girl’s voice.

**_“Well, Alice, you’re a lot younger than our normal callers. How old are you?”_ **

**_“I’m eight.”_ **

**_“It’s awfully late for you to be up, isn’t it?”_ **

**_“It’s not that late in Seattle,” the little girl replied matter-of-factly._ **

Dr. Fieldstone chuckled and Henry and his mom exchanged an amused glance. 

**_“You’re right, Alice, it isn’t. But you have a unique accent for_ ** **_Seattle.”_ **

**_“Papa and I are from London,” the girl replied in her lilting voice, “but Papa said he needed to get away from the memories.”_ **

**_“Now why would he say that?” the psychiatrist asked in that cutesy voice grownups tended to use on kids._ **

**_“You can talk to me normal, you know,” Alice replied saucily. “I’m eight, not three.”_ **

Henry laughed out loud. “She read my mind!”

Emma tilted her head in admiration. “Yeah, I like this kid.”

**_“My apologies, Alice. Now, what is your Christmas wish?”_ **

**_“It’s not for me, it’s for Papa. I think he needs a new wife.”_ **

**_“You don’t like the one he has now?”_ **

**_“He doesn’t have one now. My mum died when I was six.”_ **

**_“Oh, Alice, I’m sorry.”_ **

“Please, who can believe this?” Emma scoffed, but she didn’t move to change the station.

**_“Aye, I’ve been really sad. But my Papa is worse.”_ **

**_“Well, Alice, I can tell you love your father and are really worried_ ** **_about him. I want to help, but I’m going to need your help to do that -”_ **

Emma gasped. “You horrible woman! Don’t listen to her, Alice!”

“I thought you didn’t want to listen to this, Mom,” Henry teased. She just waved her hand at Henry to be quiet.

**_“-is your dad nearby, Alice?” Dr. Fieldstone asked._ **

**_“Aye, he’s out on the deck.”_ **

**_“Well, I need you to put him on the phone. Can you do that for me, Alice?”_ **

**_“Okay, but if he gets mad at me, I’m never listening to your show again.”_ **

Emma laughed at the little girl, and Henry grinned. 

**_“What’s your Papa’s name, Alice?”_ **

**_“His name is Killian.”_ **

************************************************************

“Papa, there’s a phone call for you!”

Lots of kids trusted adults to always know what they were talking about, but Alice Jones was not one of them. Her Papa had very intentionally taught her that just because someone was an adult didn’t mean she had to do what they said. It had something to do with things that happened when Papa was a lad, he had explained to her vaguely, before Uncle Liam got permission to take care of him. So even though this Dr. Fieldstone said she would help her father, Alice couldn’t be sure Papa would see it the same way. So before he even came through the back door from the deck, she was already hiding in the hallway, the super long cord of the wall-mounted hall telephone stretched around the corner. She was smart enough to know she couldn’t hide forever, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t try. 

“Hello,” her father said into the telephone in the living room.  He spoke in that weary voice he had started to use since Mum died. 

**_“Killian, this is Dr. Marcia Fieldstone from WXKR Chicago.”_ **

Killian groaned. “What are you selling this time? The pressure washer or the steak knives?”

**_“I’m not selling anything, Killian. You’re on the air with my radio show, and your daughter called me because she’s very worried about you.”_ **

Alice peeked around the corner in time to see her father’s confused expression as his gaze followed the phone cord. She quickly hid again when his eyes found hers. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

**_“_ ** **_Your daughter Alice called. She said you need a wife for Christmas.”_ **

Killian’s jaw clenched and his eyebrows shot up. Alice cringed. She knew what that meant. 

“She did what? Alice! Get out here!”

Her head hung low, Alice shuffled out with the phone still pressed to her ear. “She’s a doctor, Papa, she can help you.”

“A doctor of what?” her father asked sarcastically. “Her first name could be doctor!”

**_“I assure you, Killian, all I want to do is help,” Dr. Fieldstone spoke up._ **

Killian lifted his gaze to the ceiling and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sure you do.”

**_“Killian, talk to me . . . for Alice. It’s her Christmas wish.”_ **

Alice had reached the couch tiny step by tiny step, the phone cord stretched as far as it would go. Her father motioned for her to sit down on the couch next to him as he settled in, the living room phone receiver in his lap and the handset to his ear. 

“Alright, Dr. Fieldstone, I don’t know what my daughter said, but we’re doing just fine. I mean, sure, every kid needs a mother, but -”

**_“Are you sure you don’t also need someone?”_ **

“I had someone,” Killian replied, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice, “and it isn’t like she wanted to leave us, cancer took her too soon. So don’t tell me two years have gone by and I ought to be over it.”

**_“But don’t you see how it’s affecting Alice? She can tell you’re under a cloud. How are you sleeping?”_ **

“He doesn’t sleep at all,” Alice piped up. When Killian gave her a surprised look, she quirked her brow in an eerily familiar way. “I live here, Papa.”

“Okay, fine,” he sighed, “I won’t lie, it’s been rough for me. But Milah was . . . she just made everything better. Made everything into an adventure, even Christmas.”

Alice smiled up at him and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“So this time of year, especially, being a single father is tough, you know. It’s hard to give Alice everything that she needs, and it kills me.”

**_“You know, Killian, you can tell a lot about a person from his voice, and I can tell how much you love your daughter. I can hear in your voice how much you loved your wife. But those who have loved deeply once are far more likely to love again.”_ **

“Well,” Killian sighed, “Dr. Fieldstone, that’s really hard to imagine. There’s no one like my Milah.”

**_“We’ll talk about that more a little later. But right now, we’re going to take a quick break and then our audience will call in with some questions. This is Dr. Marcia Fieldstone on the phone with our call-in guest, Sleepless in Seattle, and his daughter Alice who is longing for his Christmas wish to come true. Stay tuned after these messages.”_ **

Killian turned in confusion to Alice. “Sleepless in Seattle?”

She shrugged. “They always give the callers catchy names.”

“Oh,” Killian nodded, furrowing his brow. Elevator style Christmas tunes played over the telephone. “And what are we doing now?”

“After the commercials comes the part where people call in and dump on what you said.”

“I see,” Killian said with an arch of his brow. “This is fun. A new Christmas tradition for us.”

A peal of laughter bubbled out of Alice, and she clapped her hand over her mouth as Dr. Fieldstone’s voice came through the handset of the phone once again. 

**_**************************************************_ **

Sometime during the call-in part of the radio show, Henry had dozed off. He got a little bored 

listening to women call in and beg for Killian’s phone number. He also gagged when women gushed over the man’s “sexy accent” and laid it on thick about what a “wonderful father” he must be. His mom snorted and rolled her eyes too. 

But now Henry was blinking his eyes open to find that the car was stopped in front of a small 

diner, which was great because he was hungry again. The time on the clock said 12:52. He turned his head and was surprised to find his mom just sitting there, her hands in her lap, and her gaze fixed out the window. A car pulled out of the space next to them, and the glow of its headlights illuminated his mother’s face. He was startled even more to see the tear tracks on her cheeks. Dr. Marcia Fieldstone’s voice came over the radio. 

**_“Just what was it Killian that you loved so much about your wife?”_ **

**_“How long is your program? Well, it was just . . . a thousand little things, and when you added them all up, it just meant we were supposed to be together. And I knew, from the first moment I touched her. It was like coming home, but not to any home I had ever known before. And all I was doing was taking her hand to help her out of a car. That’s all it_ ** **_took_ ** **_to feel it. It was . . . “_ **

“Magic,” Emma breathed out at the same moment Killian said it over the radio. 

**_“_ ** **_So_ ** **_what are you going to do from here, Killian? For Alice’s sake?”_ **

**_“Well, I’m going to wake up every morning and tell myself to get out of bed because Alice needs me._ ** **_I’m going to breathe in and out every day because she needs me. And one day, I won’t have to remind myself to get out of bed and breathe in and out. Maybe one day I’ll be able to forget how I had it almost perfect for_ ** **_a while_ ** **_.”_ **

Henry was practically holding his breath watching his mother. He had never seen her like this before. She let out a long, shuddering breath and lifted a shaking hand to wipe at her cheeks. 

**_“Well, everyone, this is Dr. Marcia Fieldstone signing off from Chicago. And to you, Sleepless in Seattle, and everyone else out there, have a very merry Christmas. And may all your Christmas wishes come true. Good night.”_ **

A jazzy version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” began to play, and Emma gave her head a slight shake. 

“Mom?” Henry whispered.

She jumped slightly, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, kid, didn’t know you were awake!”

And just like that, the look he had glimpsed just a moment ago in his mom’s eyes was shuttered. She unbuckled her seatbelt and chattered about coffee and onion rings as she shut off the car. She made no further mention of Sleepless in Seattle.

But Henry filed away in his memory the way she had whispered “magic” when she thought he was asleep. 

 


	21. Sleepless in Seattle: Part 2

Emma’s tires screeched as she flew into the space in the overnight parking deck. She grabbed her purse, frantically checking to make sure they had everything: keys, tickets, cash, her driver’s license, Dramamine in case of turbulence.

“Okay, kid,” she told Henry as she jumped out of the car, “we’re going to be racing to the terminal like in  _Home Alone._ You ready?”

“I guess,” Henry grumbled. 

“Seriously?” Emma couldn’t help snapping as she yanked their suitcase from her trunk. “Walsh got you a trip to Disney World for Christmas, and you’re having an attitude?”

Henry crossed his arms in front of him petulantly. “My affections cannot be bought.” 

Emma rolled her eyes as she shoved Henry’s suitcase into his hands. “Where in the world do you get your vocabulary?”

“I read, Mom.”

Emma ran for the parking deck elevator. “It’s the happiest place on earth. Can you at least try to enjoy it?”

“You think Walsh might get tied up at work and not be able to join us? Cause that would make me very happy!”

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily as she jabbed at the elevator button. God, she and Walsh weren’t even married yet, and Henry’s stepchild syndrome was already giving her a migraine.

***********************************************

The post-holiday crowd at the Boston airport jostled their way through the baggage claim area. That was probably why Alice’s father had a firm grip on her hand, though she felt she was far too old for such things. They had arrived yesterday to unpack the boxes that had been shipped to Uncle Liam and Aunt Elsa’s new apartment and to make sure the furniture had been delivered. It had been hard work but fun, with pizza and camping out on the living room floor.

Alice spotted her aunt and uncle through the crowd and took off at a run, squealing with joy. Her father called after her in a panic, but she paid him no mind as Uncle Liam scooped her up into a big bear hug. He set her down only for her to be enveloped by Aunt Elsa. 

Killian stood by, a rare smile upon his lips as he watched the reunion. His brother turned to him with a welcome grin and enveloped him in a hearty embrace. 

“It’s good to see you, little brother.”

“Younger,” Killian corrected with a chuckle, “and the feeling is mutual.”

Liam patted his shoulders as he took a step back. “Well, I managed to cross the ocean that divided us, now I just have to get things squared away so I cross the continent as well.”

“Liam,” Elsa groaned, her arms still around Alice, “let’s not talk about business right now. It’s Christmas.”

“It  _was_ Christmas,” Alice corrected with a frown, “why couldn’t you get here sooner?”

“Oh honey, we wanted to,” Elsa explained, patting her cheeks, “but this was our last Christmas with my sister and her family. Next year we’ll be traveling across an ocean to see them.”

Killian rubbed at his clenched jaw. “You know you didn’t have to do this -”

“Don’t start that,” Elsa cut him off, stepping forward to give him a hug of her own, “you need us.”

“What he needs is a wife,” Alice piped up.

 Killian’s jaw clenched again as he suppressed a groan. Elsa arched a brow at him and then 

glanced over at Alice. “What’s this all about?” she asked. 

Killian turned to his daughter with a pointed expression. “Why don’t you tell them what you did,

Alice?

She shrunk into herself as all three adults looked at her with raised brows. 

“Papa . . . “

Kilian circled his hand in the air. “No, seriously, tell them. About the radio show.”

Alice’s blush crept all the way up to her ears. 

“Radio show?” asked Elsa.

“Aye,” Killian explained, “on Christmas Eve Alice called into a radio show and told them I needed a new wife for Christmas,”

Elsa’s face morphed into a tender expression as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh Alice,” she sighed, pulling her niece close. Alice’s shame melted away at the understanding look in her aunt’s eyes. “She just wants you to be happy, Killian, we all do.”

“It’s been over two years -” Liam began, but he was silenced by Killian’s raised palm.

“Don’t, just don’t.” 

“It’s perfectly fine to start dating again,” Elsa added, “Milah wouldn’t want -”

“Like it’s so easy. I’ll just grow a new heart,” Killian snapped. He bent to hoist Elsa’s carry-on over his shoulder, clearly conveying that the conversation was over. “It only happens once.”

Killian turned towards the airport doors and instantly collided with someone racing in. He instinctively reached out to steady the person with his hands at her shoulders, and found himself looking into a pair of jade eyes. The woman’s startled look softened and the hands that grasped the front of his shirt relaxed, her fingers grazing the exposed skin of his chest where his top buttons were undone. The featherlight brushes of her fingertips sent a jolt through his chest. Her cheeks were flushed, perhaps from the cold, and her golden hair was a riot of messy waves, most likely because she’d been in a rush. Killian blinked and gaped like a schoolboy. He hadn’t been so completely mesmerized by a woman’s beauty since . . . 

“H-hello,” he stuttered.

“Hello,” she breathed out in return. Was she as affected as he was?

“Mom!”

The woman yanked her hands from his chest at the sound of the boy’s voice. The lad yanked on her arm. 

“Mom, you said we were gonna miss our flight.”

The flush on her cheeks deepened as she turned quickly away from Killian.

“Papa, are you alright?” Alice’s words made him realize he was still staring at the woman’s retreating form.

Henry’s eyes fell on the little girl tugging on her father’s hand, and he gasped. 

“Mom,” he cried as he was dragged down the concourse, “did you hear that? Their accents, and she called him Papa! I think it’s Alice and Killian. From the radio show Christmas Eve!”

“Henry, that’s ridiculous. This is Boston airport, that call came from Seattle.”

“But lots of people travel for the holidays,” Henry argued.

“And lots of people have British accents.”

“It’s them, Mom, I know it! I think it’s a sign.”

Emma sighed as she stopped at their gate and handed the tickets to the attendant. The man looked them over and told them to hurry on board, the plane was taking off soon. Henry picked up the conversation as they raced down the tunnel. 

“What are the chances that we heard them on the radio and then two days later, we run into them?”

Emma ignored him as she found their seats and stowed their carry-ons. As she plopped into the seat next to him, she put her arm around him and smiled. 

“Know what I think, kid? I  _do_ think this is a sign. A sign you’ve been spending way too much time with Mary Margaret.”

They both laughed, but Henry wasn’t giving up so easily. That magic Mary Margaret had talked about? He could feel it in the air.

****************************************************** 

When Henry got home from school, he passed his mom and her friend Ruby chatting in the kitchen. He gave his mom a quick hug then went to find a snack in the kitchen. He was standing in front of the pantry trying to decide between Oreos and Chips Ahoy when he heard it. 

“Sleepless in Seattle?” Ruby asked.

Henry stilled, leaning towards the living room to hear better. 

“That’s what she called him on the radio because he can’t sleep.” His mother paused, and he suddenly felt like she somehow had eyes in the kitchen. “Henry!” she called out. “What are you doing in there?”

“Getting Oreos!” he shouted back. He grabbed the package and shut the pantry door to emphasize his point. 

“Use a bowl!” 

“Ok!” He tossed a few cookies in a bowl, then grabbed the jug of milk from the fridge. He strained to hear the conversation, but his mother had lowered her voice. He quickly poured his milk, then walked back out into the living room. His mother clamped her mouth shut the minute she saw him. “Got homework,” he told her nonchalantly, forcing himself to barely glance her way. 

His mother and Ruby stayed silent as he ascended the stairs. He went to his door, opened and shut it, then settled down on the top step. Sure enough, their conversation resumed once they thought he was out of earshot. 

“Are you telling me you’re having fantasies about this man?” Ruby asked. He could hear his mother groan. 

“I know,” she said, sounding like her voice was muffled. He could imagine his mom with a pillow smashed to her face. “I’m having fantasies about a man I’ve never met. I don’t even know what he looks like! He could be a chainsaw murderer, a cult leader, or someone really sick. Like . . . like . . . Neal.”

Henry grimaced. His mom had told him all about his dad. How he was older and took advantage of her, and how he was now in jail. Still, he sometimes wondered if it meant something was wrong with  _him_ too. No matter how many times his mom insisted he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, he still wondered if his dad’s DNA had tainted him somehow. 

“So if you think it’s so crazy,” Ruby asked, “why can’t you stop thinking about him?”

“I don’t know . . . he just started talking about how much he loved his wife, and suddenly I was crying.”

“Whoa. Emma Swan does not cry. Especially about sappy stuff.”

“I know! It totally threw me, Rubes! What’s wrong with me?”

“And then there was the guy at the airport?” Ruby asked. “You think he’s the same guy.”

“No, Henry thinks he is. But it was so strange, Ruby. It was like we had met before . . . I just felt this . . . connection.”

Emma trailed off, and it was quiet for a while. Even though he couldn’t see them, Henry had a feeling his mother had her head in Ruby’s lap right now and the brunette was combing her fingers through her hair. 

“I think,” Ruby finally said, “that this has more to do with Walsh than this mystery man.”

“Ugh, I feel awful. I’m engaged to Walsh, and I’m fantasizing about someone else. What kind of person does that make me?”

“It makes you a woman who wants more,” Ruby replied. “I think that’s why you can‘t get Sleepless in Seattle out of your head. You want the kind of love he had with his wife. And the guy at the airport? You want electricity! And let’s face it, honey, you don’t have either of those things with Walsh. That man may be loyal, but he’s boring as hell.”

“Walsh is a good man,” Emma protested. “He’s steady, he makes a good living, he’s responsible . . . and he adores me.”

Henry clutched his glass of milk so hard he was afraid it might shatter. This was his mom’s speech. Had Ruby heard it as many times as he had?

“You’ve said that, Emma. But do you love him?”

Henry held his breath, counting the beats of his heart waiting for his mother’s answer. When it didn’t readily come, he heard Ruby sigh.

“I think you should at least write to this guy in Seattle. Make sure Walsh is the one.”

“I never said Walsh wasn’t the one!” Emma argued. “And are you insane? I can’t write a letter to a man I’ve never met! Besides, I bet he’s being flooded with letters already. Do you know how many women were asking for his number on the air that night alone?”

“Well, if you won’t write him maybe I will,” Ruby teased. “You’ve made him sound like a dream.”

“Don’t you dare, Rubes!” 

Henry heard his mother and Ruby squealing and laughing, and the sounds of pillows thudding against the sofa. He rose from the top stair and made his way to his room, opening and closing the door with agonizing slowness. He set his untouched snack down on his nightstand and went over to his desk. He pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper and began to write. 

“Dear Sleepless in Seattle . . . “


	22. Sleepless in Seattle: Part Three

Some people might call Killian Jones an overprotective parent. His daughter Alice would probably agree. But Killian always argued that he had to be. For one, he was all Alice had now. For another, he knew all too well what kind of darkness lurked in the world. Alice saw it full of joy and possibility; and he would do all he could to allow her to continue to believe that. 

Which was why he panicked slightly to hear a male voice talking to his daughter at their front door. He picked up his pace coming down the stairs, and even when he saw that it was just the mail carrier, he didn’t slow down. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he demanded in his sternest voice. Okay, so maybe he was a  _little_ on the overprotective side, but when did the mail ever get hand-delivered to their door? “Alice, how many times have I told you to let me answer the door?”

Alice completely ignored his apparent panic attack. “Look at all these letters, Papa!”

The mail carrier shoved another fat stack of letters bound with rubber bands into Killian’s chest and beat a hasty retreat. Killian’s brow rose as he looked at the letters that he could scarcely juggle to the equally large stack in Alice’s arms. A fat packet fell to the floor and Alice bent to retrieve them, almost losing hold of the ones clutched against her chest. They made their way to the kitchen island and dumped them on top. As the loose ones fanned out across the formica, Killian spied postmarks from all over the country, and some from even farther away. Alice reached for one in a pink envelope and tore into it. 

“Dear Sleepless in Seattle,” she read, “you’re the sexiest man I ever laid ears on.” She rolled her eyes, tossing the letter over her shoulder. “Yuck, that one’s a no.”

“Wait,” Killian said, slashing his hand through the air, “these are all addressed to Sleepless in Seattle?”

“Uh huh,” Alice said distractedly as she opened another letter. “This one sent a picture.”

She waved it in her father’s face, and Killian snatched it. Who knew what type of photographs these women had sent? He glanced at it, then let out a sigh of relief.

“She looks old,” Alice commented as she wrinkled her nose.

“She looks like my primary school teacher - “ he paused dramatically then gave the picture another glance, making his eyes bug out exaggeratedly, “Wait a second! She  _is_ my primary school teacher!”

Alice dissolved into giggles, and before she could reach for another letter, Killian unceremoniously began to slide all of them into the trashcan. Some missed the bin and went fluttering to the floor. He couldn’t expose Alice to God knew what might be in these missives. One that landed on his boot had lipstick marks on it. He kicked it aside, snatched it, then shoved it into the trash with the others. 

“Papa!” Alice cried. “What are you doing? Your soul mate could be in there!”

“No, Alice, she’s not!” 

“How do you know?”

“Because this isn’t how it happens.”

“Then how  _does_ it happen?”

Killian shrugged. “You . . . meet someone, and you feel this . . . spark.”

A sly grin filled Alice’s face. “You mean like when that lady ran into you at the airport?”

“Lady?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Papa, please, you stood there staring at her with your mouth hanging open.”

Killian sighed and rested his elbows on the countertop. “Alice, listen, sometimes a person is attracted to someone, yes, but that doesn’t mean it will be the way it was with your mom. If I do this -” he lifted his palm when Alice eagerly retrieved a letter he’d missed beneath the stool she was perched on “and by this I mean date, not go through these ridiculous letters. If I date, I may need to sort of . . . try a few ladies on for size. See if they fit with our little family here. It may not be the fairy tale you’re imagining. Can you understand that, Starfish?”

Alice chewed on her bottom lip. “But if it’s true love . . .”

Killian groaned and massaged his brow. “Let’s drop this topic, shall we?” He turned to the kitchen pantry. “What do you say about spaghetti for dinner?”

Alice didn’t respond, instead surreptitiously opening the letter she had retrieved from the floor. But when she scanned the first lines, she gasped. “Papa!” She jumped from her stool and dashed across the kitchen waving the letter in her hand. “Papa, listen to this:  _Dear Killian and Alice, Hi. My name is Henry. I’m ten. My mom should be writing this letter, but I know she won’t do it._ _So_ _I’m writing instead. This may sound weird, but – were you at Boston Airport a few days after Christmas? Cause I think my mom may have run into you – like seriously. Ran into you._  Did you hear that Papa? The lady from the airport!!!”

Killian exited the pantry with a box of noodles in his hand. “Let me see that.” With narrowed eyes, he scanned the letter himself. “ _She’s blonde and has green eyes. I think she liked you, Mr. Killian. We also heard you on the radio. I don’t really know what else to say. I guess I’m asking if you could write back? To my mom, I mean. Or you could write to me too. I don’t mind. Your friend (I hope), Henry Swan.”_

”See Papa, see?” Alice squealed, jumping up and down and pulling on her father’s arm. “I was right! Bumping into that lady was fate! You have to write back.”

Killian shook his head. “I can’t, Starfish.”

Alice frowned. “Why not?”

“A grown man can’t start writing letters to a ten-year-old boy. His mother would be livid, and rightfully so.”

“Then write to her,” Alice said with a shrug. “You have her name now, and her address.”

“Aye, I do,” Killian told his daughter, pointing at the envelope on the table. “Boston, Massachusetts, Alice, do you have any idea how far away that is from Seattle?”

Alice tilted her head. “A long plane ride?”

“American schools,” Killian muttered, shaking his head as he went over to the set of maps he’d put up above the kitchen table. He pulled down the one of the US. If she wasn’t going to learn geography or how to read a map at school, he was bloody well teaching her himself. “Now, where’s Seattle?”

Alice gave him a withering look, but pointed at the northwest coast anyway.

“And where’s Boston?”

“Somewhere . . .” she gestured vaguely to the right side of the map, “over there?”

“Aye, somewhere over there, here specifically,” he jabbed his finger at the coast of Massachusetts, “there’s what, two? Five? Eight? About two dozen states between here and there.” 

“But Uncle Liam and Aunt Elsa are there!” Alice was raising her voice now, and Killian was losing his patience.

“Alice, I’m not answering a letter from a kid like some sick pedophile!”

“What’s a pedophile?”

“It’s a . .  a, um . . . “ he rubbed his brow wearily, then bent down to look Alice in the eye. “That’s not important, Starfish, you’ve just got to trust me. Forget this letter. Okay?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, glared at him for a minute, then burst into tears. She turned and stomped up the stairs. “I hate you!” she yelled as she fled. 

He collapsed onto the kitchen stool and dropped his head into his hands. Moments like this, he missed Milah more than ever. 

**************************************************

_Dear Henry,_

_You can_ _probly_ _tell this is Alice. I_ _tride_ _to get Papa to_ _right_ _write but he said no. He did run into your Mum. I think he liked her. Can you get her to write?_

_Your new friend Alice_

_****************************************************_

_Dear Alice,_

_I showed Mom your letter. She got mad that I wrote. We had a pretty bad fight about it. I think she was still mad about what I said to Walsh though. But he really did screech like a monkey when he saw that spider! My mom hates spiders, so I had to kill it. Oh, I guess you don’t know. My mom is engaged to Walsh. Yuck! Would your dad kill a spider? Or just stand_ _there_ _screaming? I don’t want Walsh to be my dad. He doesn’t even like me. Anyway, could you write back at least?_

_Your friend,_

_Henry_

_****************************************************_

_Dear Henry,_

_Of_ _corse_ _I can write! Walsh sounds awful. My Papa is very brave, and he is a good papa to me. I think he would like you. What is Boston like? Do you live by the sea? Papa says the sea_ _com cam_ _calms him._ _Owr_ _house is right by the water. I like to draw, so I will draw a_ _pikcher_ _of our house and send it with my letter._

_Your friend, Alice_

_******************************************************_

_Dear Alice,_

_Your drawing was really good! I can’t draw, but I like to write stories. Walsh laughed about one of my stories and called it “cute”. I was so mad! Mom says he’s trying, but I know he’s only nice to me because he wants to marry her. You have to help me stop the wedding! Are you sure your dad won’t write? Walsh wants to take us to New York City for Valentine’s Day, but he won’t even take me to the Empire State Building. He says_ _its_ _too crowded.  I hate him! All he wants to do is take my mom to Tiffany’s and do mushy stuff with her. Yuck!_

_Your friend,_

_Henry_

_*******************************************************_

_Dear Henry,_

_We are both in tons of trouble! We have to get our parents together somehow. Papa had a date with this awful witch named_ _Zelena_ _. I am NOT kidding. I think she may really be a witch. She_ _cakels_ _cackles like a witch. She came to our house with tons of bags like she was_ _goin_ _to stay for a million years. She_ _tryed_ _to kiss my Papa too, but I screamed. Yes, I was spying OK? Papa and I will be in New York City on Valentine’s Day too! I got in_ _a_ _art_ _comphu_ _comp_ _contest._ _Get your mum to The Empire_ _State_ _Bilding_ _at sunset that day. I’ll get Papa there!_

_Your friend, Alice_

_****************************************************_

Emma punched the elevator button so hard she was surprised she didn’t break it. When the numbers above the door still didn’t light up fast enough, she slammed both palms against it. 

“Emma,” Walsh said, laying a hand over one of hers, “calm down. Just call the cops and let them deal with this.”

“What?” Emma snapped turning all her fury on her fiancé. “Are you fucking kidding me? My kid is missing!”

Walsh had the audacity to roll his eyes, and Emma almost punched him. “We both know where he went. He wouldn’t shut up about the stupid Empire State Building. I told you to do something about his attitude. He whines like a toddler. And now when we’re supposed to be having a romantic dinner -”

Walsh’s words were cut off when Emma’s fist connected with his jaw. He hit the floor before he had even processed anything. The engagement ring he had purchased that morning at Tiffany’s pinged off his forehead. 

“Consider the wedding cancelled, asshole.”

***********************************************

“Henry! Henry!” relief flooded through Emma when she found Henry sitting on the ground next to a telescope on the observation deck. His cheeks were wet with tears, and Emma held him as close as she could in trembling arms. 

“I thought they would come Mom,” he sobbed against her shoulder. 

“Who Henry? You thought who would come?” she asked as she pulled back to look him in the eye. She tenderly wiped his cheeks with her thumbs. 

“Alice and Killian. It was my last hope. To keep you from marrying that awful Walsh. He’s so wrong for you Mom, I couldn’t -”

Emma shook her head and pulled Henry close again. “Oh kid, I’m so sorry. Walsh is history. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I thought you needed a traditional family. The white picket fence, and the dog, and -”

“I’ll take a dog!”

They both laughed as they pulled apart. Emma massaged her son’s shoulders. “I haven’t screwed up too much, have I?”

“That depends?” Henry said teasingly, cocking his head. “Is Walsh really history?”

Emma nodded firmly. “With a broken jaw to prove it.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide in awe. “Sweet.” 

Emma laughed. “And I threw the ring at his head.”

Henry gave her a fist bump. As Emma stood and tousled his hair, her son’s eyes grew wide. Emma turned, and her own jaw dropped. 

“It’s . . .  you,” the man before her gasped. 

Emma blinked as she took him in: the same man from the airport. At his side was the same little blonde girl, her grin as wide as a cheshire cat.

“It’s me,” Emma replied, a tiny smile flitting at the corner of her mouth. In the rational part of Emma’s brain, the words made no sense. But in some other part of her, they made all the sense in the world. 

“Hey Alice,” Henry piped up.

“Hi, Henry!” the little girl replied.

The handsome man in front of her arched a brow. The motion brought attention to his sparkling blue eyes. He ran his hand along his jaw, and Emma followed the movement, appreciating the stubble there. 

“It seems our children have been corresponding.”

His accent made Emma’s stomach flip. Her half smile tilted up further. 

“Is that so?”

“Aye,” he said, dropping his hand from his face and extending it to her, “so I feel I ought to introduce myself. Killian Jones.”

Emma swallowed at a sudden lump in her throat. Sleepless in Seattle. Just as Henry had said. She took his offered hand. 

“Emma Swan.”

The elevator operator announced that the observation deck was closing. 

“Shall we?” Killian asked. 

Emma could only smile and nod in response. He had yet to let go of her hand, and in that simple touch, she felt it. Magic. 

As the elevator doors closed, Alice and Henry looked first at their parents, then at each other with huge grins on their faces. Operation Sleepless Swan was a success.

**********************************************

“I’m Marcia Fieldstone live from Chicago on this Christmas Eve. I have some very special guests in my studio today. Many of you may remember last year when I spoke with a little girl named Alice whose Christmas wish was a wife for her Papa. Alice, can you tell us what happened just yesterday?”

“My Papa got married!”

“That’s wonderful, Alice. And listeners, I have here also the woman who has made this wish come true. Emma, it is so wonderful for you to join us.”

“Thank you, Marcia, it’s my pleasure. I was actually listening last Christmas when Alice called you”

“And did you imagine that you would be here a year later as a mother to Alice and a wife to Killian?”

“No, Marcia, I didn’t.”

“Well, I want to turn now to Sleepless in Seattle himself. Killian, last year I asked you what you loved about your first wife. What made you fall in love with Emma?”

“Well, just like last year, I would say it’s so many, many things. This amazing woman next to me, who I now am honored to call my wife, is feisty and determined. I have yet to see her fail. I never thought I could get over losing my wife, until I met Emma. Never thought I could love again. But the moment I touched Emma’s hand – no, before that – the moment she crashed into me, I knew.”

“What did you know, Killian?”

“Magic. Dr. Fieldstone. True love. That’s what I’ve found with Emma.”

“Well, listeners, it’s wonderful to report a dream come true for the holidays. Before I open the phone lines, it is our wish that you and yours will find magic as well on this Christmas Eve.”

Dr. Fieldstone pushed a button and the radio switched to a commercial. She motioned for Emma, Killian, and Alice to remove their headphones and exit the studio. Outside, Henry was waiting for them. He grabbed Alice’s hand, telling her about free cookies and cocoa, and the pair ran down the hallway. Emma stopped her husband with a hand to his elbow. When he turned towards her, she draped her arms around his neck. 

“I love you, Mr. Jones,” she told him with a flirtatious smile.

“And I love you,  _Mrs._ Jones.” 

He bent his head and kissed Emma thoroughly. Emma’s hands drifted upward to tangle in his hair. The magic that coursed from his lips was so strong she was surprised the lights didn’t flicker. When they parted, Killian pressed his forehead to hers. 

“Let’s go home, love.”

She smiled up at him, brushing one more kiss across his lips. “Yes. Let’s go home for Christmas.”

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is last update before the holidays. After Christmas, maybe not until after New Years, I will start my next movie au, Priceless.


	23. Priceless:Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate men can find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for Killian Jones it would finally force him to be the hero his daughter always thought he could be. The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. But Killian Jones has never followed instructions very well . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is just a prologue, and it’s pretty short. Much thanks to xhookswenchx for being my beta for this story. I am so nervous because I’m writing this in first person, which I’ve never attempted before. 
> 
> *I have had to explain this a million times as countless people leave me comments along the lines of “um, you do know this movie isn’t a rom com, right?” *sigh* So much for trying to use a catchy title. That’s all the series title is - catchy. It really just means these are all movie aus. This one in particular is the farthest thing from a rom-com. It’s dark and about a heavy topic - human trafficking. I was hesitant to even watch this movie until my sister and a close friend urged me to saying it was such a great film with a great ending. And Joel Smallbone of For King & Country as rugged man-candy didn’t hurt either ;) Anyway, as I watched it, I thought how similar his character was to Killian Jones. Then, one scene in particular happened, and I was like, “yep, this is so going to be a CS fanfic.” Eight months later, I’ve finally gotten up the courage to write it.

I used to be a good man: a loving husband, a dedicated father. That was before I lost everything 

There was an accident, and even though they said my blood alcohol was below the legal limit, I still blamed myself. I ran the evening over and over in my mind a million times. It was our anniversary, and we both had wine at dinner, Milah more than I did. It made sense for me to drive. After all, I felt fine. But was I? Or maybe it was Milah’s mouth on my neck, her hand sliding up my inner thigh. You might say I should blame her, but I don’t. All I know is there was a curve in the road, and . . . she was gone.  

It wasn’t enough that I failed Milah. I failed Alice, too. Her mother was never coming home, and I had been the one driving. Worse, I didn’t know how to live without my wife. I fell apart. I lost my job, I let the house fall into a pit of filth, I fed both of us nothing but dry cereal and peanut butter sandwiches. You’d think they’d give a guy at least a year to grieve, but the power company and the bank didn’t care that my wife was dead. They shut off the power, took the house. We crashed at Liam’s, but apparently two bachelors raising a little girl wasn’t good enough for children’s services. Especially when her father is an unemployed piece of shit. 

I’ll never forget how Alice cried for me when I left her with Tiana, her new foster mother. At least Tiana was a close family friend who let me see her. When the courts would let me, that is. Failing Alice, losing her, was what drove me completely over the edge. I lost myself at the bottom of a bottle. Then there was the bar fight, which led to a short stint in jail. Now I was a drunk with a record. Forget even part time work, no employer would give me a second glance.  

Tiana, as much as she had always cared about me, started getting frustrated. Even Liam was at the end of his rope. At least I still had a place to sleep on his couch. But it was Alice’s sad gaze that finally snapped me out of it. She needed better than I was giving her; my God, she was only seven.  She’d lost her mother at five, then lost me at six. Was I going to wait until she was a grown woman? Or was I going to man up and be her father now? I knew the answer to that question, so I got clean. 

It still wasn’t enough. It didn’t help me get a job or a place to live, and without those, I had no hopes of getting Alice back. In short, I was desperate. Desperate men can find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for me, it would finally force me to be the hero my daughter always thought I could be.  

The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. I’ve never followed instructions very well . . .  

  
  



	24. Priceless: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prologue was so short, I wanted to get this to ya'll quickly!

One thing I have to clarify right from the beginning is that I never meant for Liam to get involved. Unfortunately, he’s never stopped thinking he has to take care of me. From the moment our father left when I was eight, he’s taken the care of his “little brother” onto his shoulders. And though those shoulders are no longer as slender as they were at eleven, they still carry way too much. I certainly didn’t want him carrying this too. 

“Liam, seriously, I don’t need a babysitter!” 

“Where did you even get this job, Killian?” 

I clenched my jaw and avoided his gaze. Of course, that probably only made him worry more. “Will Scarlett knew a guy who knew a guy . . . “ 

“Seriously, Scarlett? Are you kidding me?” Liam paced the room, nervously tugging at his hair. It was a nervous tick that ran in the Jones family. “Be straight with me. Is it drugs?” 

I shook my head firmly. “I made it clear to Will that I wouldn’t get mixed up in that sort of thing. He swore it isn’t drugs. I know you don’t like him, but Will at least would never double cross a friend.” 

“So why all the secrecy?” 

I swallowed hard. I knew it could only mean that whatever I was transporting wasn’t legal. I was no fool. “I figure the less I know, the better.” Liam was going to fall through the floor soon at the rate he was pacing. “I’m desperate, Liam! I need something better than crashing on your couch, or I’ll never get Alice back.” 

Liam’s expression softened. “So you pick the truck up from the docks, drive it to Vegas . . . “ 

“And that’s it. I’m five thousand dollars richer.” 

Liam crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m still going with you.” 

“That isn’t part of the deal -” 

Liam silenced me with one raised hand. “I’m not asking for a cut. I just think you at least need someone to help you drive. I mean, it’s a cross country trip for heaven’s sake! I don’t want you driving off the road in the middle of Nebraska because you fell asleep at the wheel.” 

I always hated it when he was right. 

****************************************************** 

We picked up the truck at Boston harbor just where Will said it would be. It was plain white; a modest sized box truck. I couldn’t help noticing the padlock on the back. Liam caught my eye and raised an eyebrow.  

“They want to be sure we don’t sneak a peek.” 

I ignored Liam’s pointed look as I got behind the wheel. I wondered if he’d contemplated the possibilities of what we were transporting. I sure as hell hadn’t. I didn’t want to know, plain and simple. Every time I was tempted to wonder, I thought of Alice.  

My brother and I were silent until we made it out of Boston traffic and were on a stretch of interstate. Then he twisted in his seat to face me.  

“Why the desperation?” 

I glanced at him. “What do you mean? My daughter is growing up without me. What more is there to say?” 

“But you’ve been doing all you can, picking up part time work, pounding the pavement for more interviews. You visit her every chance you get, and you know Tiana is for you.” 

I shifted in my seat, kneading the steering wheel with my fingers. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

“What do you mean?” 

I sighed as I rubbed at my temple. We weren’t even out of Massachusetts yet and Liam was already giving me a headache. “She wants to adopt Alice.” 

“She can’t do that!” Liam exclaimed. “You’d have to sign over your rights!” 

“For a formal adoption, yes, but a judge can grant Tiana permanent custody. It’s almost the same thing. She says I’m no good for Alice. That I break promises.” 

Liam shook his head, and I could tell he was trying to reign in his temper. “You’re doing the best you can. That time you missed her school play, it was only because your boss threatened to fire you if you didn’t come in to cover that shift.” 

I scoffed. “Then he fired me anyway when he found out I had a record.” I gave Liam a long look. “Now do you see why I couldn’t pass this up?” 

***************************************************** 

Have you ever driven from Boston to Vegas? Almost three thousand miles, forty long hours, and let me tell you, the American Midwest is . . . well, it’s not the most fascinating drive in the world. Liam wasn’t kidding about falling asleep halfway through Nebraska. Even with the two of us sharing the driving, it was getting harder and harder to keep our eyes open, but whoever was waiting for our delivery in Vegas had been very clear: drive straight through, no stops except for gas and bathroom breaks.  

It was my turn to drive, and the highway was a lonely stretch of road, nothing but fields of wheat and prairie grass for miles ahead. That humming, hypnotic sound of the engine and the spinning tires was pulling at my eyelids no matter how hard I tried. Liam was snoring beside me, and I didn’t want to wake him. I rolled my shoulders, slapped my cheeks and turned up the air conditioning. The radio, unfortunately, was busted.  

The glare of the setting sun helped keep me awake for about an hour, but once the sun went down fully, I was in trouble. I felt my head loll, and I shook it. My eyelids drooped, and I forced them wide. But at some point, I lost the battle, and the next thing I knew, the sight through the windshield wasn’t the yellow lines stretching along the asphalt. The truck’s headlights shone on tall prairie grass and the wheels bounced along rough terrain. Liam awoke and shouted in alarm as I put on the breaks. I was trying to keep the truck steady, but we still fishtailed a little before finally coming to a jerking stop. 

And that’s when we both heard it: the screams from the back of the truck.  

I turned towards my brother, and I knew my eyes were probably as wide as his, my face just as pale. 

“Did you hear that?” Liam whispered.  

We both fell silent, straining to hear. It was faint, but I thought I heard . . .  

“Is someone crying?” I asked.  

Liam was out of the truck before I could finish the question. I jumped out as well, slipping on the loose soil as I raced around to the back of the vehicle. Liam was already yanking at the padlock. I pounded my fists against the door.  

“Anyone in there?” 

Liam stopped as we both awaited an answer. Nothing. Liam’s face was a picture of anguish, and I was sure mine was no better. My lips set in a grim line, I marched to the cab of the truck and rooted around inside. Behind the seat was a tool box, and I pulled out the sturdiest thing I could find – a crowbar. The padlock was old and slightly rusted in places, so I hoped it would give. After my first whack of the crowbar, screams came once again from inside the truck.  

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Liam called out, “we’ve got to make sure you’re okay back there.” 

He nodded, and I continued pounding at the lock. Finally, it gave, and Liam quickly opened the roll up door. The crying was louder now, and as we squinted into the dark interior, I thought I saw three figures huddled in the back. I pulled up the flashlight app on my phone and shined it inside. I was shocked at what I saw; a large bottle from a water cooler, almost empty; several dirty blankets; a bucket; and the crumpled remains of food packages.  

But the worst thing were the three young women clinging to one another and squinting in the sudden light. I wasn’t transporting illegal goods. I was transporting people.  

 


	25. Priceless: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Finally, CS interacts!  
> * This does have Knightrook, just for fair warning. Milah is Alice's mother, however, instead of Gothel.  
> * Thanks again to my beta, xhookswenchx!

There were three young women in the back of the box truck. They were filthy and the stench that rose from them was almost unbearable. Liam and I were horrified to see the buckets they had been forced to relieve themselves in. Empty boxes and wrappers were all that remained of their food supply. Their large bottle of water had also run out. We reached out our hands, gesturing for them to get out, but they were hesitant. Finally, the smallest one eased forward, taking my hand for me to help her out. Her hand was tiny in mine, her wrist fragile, and I wondered how old she was. The other two finally followed, and even though it was night, they all blinked at the harsh glare of the streetlights.  

“Are you injured?” we asked them. “Sick? Are you okay?” 

But all they did was stare at us silently. The tallest one, whose blonde hair was braided messily over one shoulder, spoke in a language neither of us recognized. 

Liam and I exchanged glances. “I’m sorry,” Liam told them, “we can’t understand you.” 

“We didn’t know you were back here,” I added, wanting desperately for them to know we meant them no harm. But did they even know what I was saying? 

“Are you okay?” Liam repeated slowly. 

Thankfully, all three of them nodded their heads.  

“Can you understand English?” I asked. 

Three nods again. 

“Can you speak any English?”  

They all shook their heads this time, though the youngest one, a red head, seemed to hesitate and glance at the others first.  

“What are your names?” I asked. 

“Elsa,” the tallest one said, pressing a hand to her chest. 

“Anna,” the red head told us with a bright smile. 

“Emma,” the last woman said. I noticed that though she was also blonde, her eyes were a light jade green while the other two had blue eyes. Her blonde hair hung messy and loose, yet her beauty still took my breath away. Why was I transporting these women? 

“Did someone force you into this truck?” I asked. 

They all shook their heads, and I let out a relieved breath. 

“Killian,” Liam whispered, grasping my arm, “we need to get back on the road before another vehicle comes along. This looks really bad.”  

He was right, so we shut the back of the truck and had the girls squeeze into the cab with us. The smell was worse with all of us crammed in together, but there was no way I was letting them travel further in such horrific conditions. If I had known . . .  

Emma was pressed right against me, and Elsa was next to Liam on the other side. Anna was wedged between the two blondes. We were all quiet for a long while until Emma gently touched the inside of my forearm. I flinched slightly, and she snatched her hand away. 

“I’m sorry,” I told her, “you just startled me, that’s all.” 

She reached out again tentatively and lightly touched my tattoo with one slender finger.  

“Oh, it’s a chess piece – a knight. I like to teach my daughter Alice how to play. The tattoo reminds me to try and be a better man for her.” 

I gripped the steering wheel harder as my jaw clenched. Thoughts of Alice were never far from my mind. 

Emma leaned over and began talking rapidly in that foreign language to her – sisters? I could definitely see a resemblance. She had the same hair color as the blonde, obviously, but their eyes were also similarly shaped. Emma shared the same nose and light dusting of freckles as Anna as well. 

There was a truck stop ahead, and I bought tokens so the girls could shower. Their clothes would be more difficult, but I searched the small convenience store anyway.  

“This is worse than I thought, little brother,” Liam spoke low over my shoulder as I searched through a rack of cheaply made tie-dye sundresses. 

“I’d say Emma and Anna are a small while Elsa is a medium, right?” 

“Killian, are you listening me?” 

“Why am I asking you? I’m the one with a daughter.” And a dead wife, but I refused to think about Milah. 

“I’m serious! What are going to do about those girls?” 

“I’m doing all I can do, Liam,” I snapped. “There are worse things than illegal immigration. We of all people should understand. Remember how hard it was for Dad and us when we first came here? The red tape? The confusing laws?” 

Liam wearily rubbed at his eyes. “If we get caught - “ 

I shoved the dresses at Liam’s chest. “Then we don’t get caught. Now go pay for these and give them to the girls. I paid for the showers.” 

Liam stomped off, looking frankly ridiculous carrying the bright colored dresses. If our situation wasn’t so serious, I would have laughed. 

************************************************* 

The beauty of the two blondes was even more striking once they were showered and in fresh clothes. Even the red head was pretty, though she was obviously very young. She looked even more so, and incredibly innocent, with the two braids she had plaited her wet hair into. We took them into the truck stop restaurant, knowing they had to be famished. Emma’s stomach growled to confirm it, and a pretty blush stained her cheeks. A waiter approached us with menus in his hand.  

“Can I have a hamburger please?” Anna blurted out. “And a chocolate milkshake?” 

“Anna!” Elsa admonished. 

“But what about the tattoo?” Anna argued, and Liam and I widened our eyes at her perfect English. “Emma said -” 

“I said it  _ might  _ be a sign we can trust them,” Emma snapped, also in perfect English. 

“You could talk to us this entire time!” Liam exclaimed. 

“I’m sorry,” Elsa told him, her voice calmer than her sisters, “we were afraid. We were told not to talk to anyone.” 

I ushered them quickly to a booth, noticing the waiter’s suspicious gaze. We slipped into the seats, the sisters on one side, and Liam and I on the other.  

“Hamburgers and fries all around,” I told the waiter. 

“And chocolate milkshakes,” Anna added.  

I smiled at her, then addressed her sisters, “And the two of you?” 

“It’s always a yes to chocolate milkshakes in our family,” Elsa laughed.  

Her laugh was delicate, and my brother’s face visibly softened at the sound of it. He seemed to be mesmerized by her light blue eyes, and I had to kick him lightly in the shin to give the waiter his order. 

Once we were alone, I leaned over the table, my voice low. “Why aren’t you supposed to talk to anyone?” 

“The man who arranged our passage,” Emma explained, “told us to stay quiet in the container and when we were transferred to the truck, not to speak to anyone.” 

“Container?” Liam asked.  

The sisters explained, finishing each other’s sentences and talking over one another as siblings often do, about how their parents died when Anna was a baby. Emma had been seven, Elsa nine. Their Aunt Ingrid had taken them in, but she was young and it was a huge burden for her to care for three small children. The bank would no longer help her, so she took loans from a business man in the tiny Eastern European town they hailed from. All three sisters were here to work to pay off their aunt’s debt. 

“What kind of work?” Liam’s brow creased with concern. 

Emma dragged a french fry through ketchup. “He has a hotel and casino just outside of Vegas. Elsa and I will be maids in the hotel, and Anna will waitress in the restaurant.” 

“But Anna will also keep up her studies,” Elsa cut in. 

“Homeschooled by my sisters,” Anna grumbled, “lucky me.” 

“How long until the debt is paid?” I frowned at the thought. 

“Four years,” Elsa answered softly. 

I watch my brother clench both fists. “That isn’t right!” 

“We weren’t about to let Aunt Ingrid lose her home,” Emma argued. “She didn’t want us to do it, but how could we turn our backs on her after all she’s done for us? And by the time the four years are up, the people we’re working for will have gotten us student visas.” 

“We’ll have so many more opportunities here in the US,” Elsa finished her sister’s thought. 

“I’m going to be a singer,” Anna told us, “like Taylor Swift.” 

“How old are you?” I asked. 

“Sixteen.” 

She was just as young and innocent as I had guessed. I couldn’t help but think of my Alice.  

*********************************************************** 

Once again, a long, straight ribbon of highway stretched seemingly endlessly before me. This time, however, I was wide awake. Liam was slumped against the passenger side door, snoring softly. Elsa had been the first to fall asleep, and Liam hadn’t minded at all when her head lolled onto his shoulder. Now, in his sleep, he had slipped his arm over her shoulder, and her head was pillowed on his chest. Knowing my brother, he would be mortified with embarrassment when he woke up. Anna had chatted endlessly at first, as if she were making up for all the miles she had been forced to remain silent. Now the truck was quiet, Anna’s head resting on Emma’s shoulder. Only Emma and I were awake.  

“She’d been saving up a lot to say.” 

Emma laughed softly and shook her head. “Actually, that’s normal for her.” My eyes widened, and Emma laughed even more.  

I had already gathered that Elsa was reserved, Anna a chatterbox. Emma seemed to fall somewhere in between. She exuded confidence, yet small talk seemed difficult for her. 

“You know,” I said, flashing her a flirtatious grin and a wink, “most men would find your silence off-putting, but I love a challenge.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, yet her lips curled into a small smile nonetheless. Silence fell between us again, and I felt no pressure to fill it. Emma laid her head on top of her sister’s with a sigh, and I wondered if she too would fall asleep. My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket, and I swore softly under my breath as I fumbled to retrieve it. 

“Sorry,” I whispered, hoping I hadn’t awakened anyone. I looked at the screen, and my heart leapt. “I have to take this,” I apologized to Emma, who had sat up again, a questioning look in her eyes. “Hello, Starfish,” I said into the phone. 

“Papa!” Alice cried. “Guess what Tiana taught me today?” 

“What?” 

“How to make beignets. She said I’m a natural.” 

“That’s wonderful love, you’ll have to make them for me when I come see you next time.” 

“When will that be, Papa?” I could hear her sadness even over the phone and imagined her frown and tearful eyes. Liam said she was just as expressive as I always was. 

“As soon as I possibly can. I’ve got a job, a very important one, that I have to finish first.” 

“What kind of job?” 

“Well,” I said hesitantly, shifting in my seat, “I’m driving all the way across the country. I’m in Colorado right now.” 

“I want to see Colorado! Take me with you next time!” 

I chuckled at her enthusiasm; she was always planning trips for us to take together. “I should do that, shouldn’t I?” 

“Yes, you should,” she said solemnly.  

I suddenly had a thought, and even though I knew Liam might be angry, I couldn’t let it go. “I tell you what, Starfish, I’ll take a different route home and come see you in New Orleans.” 

“Really?!” She squealed. The sound of it warmed the deepest places in my heart. 

“Yes, really, and in the meantime, you can call me whenever you want.” 

“Okay. Can you send me a picture?” 

“Of what?” 

“Las Vegas is this big city of light in the middle of the desert. I’d like to see that.” 

“Okay, done.” 

“But you have to be in the picture, Papa,” Alice admonished, “because pictures without people in them are no fun. You can look that up on Google.” 

I chuckled. “That is an excellent point, little love.” 

“Ugh, Tiana says I have to take a bath.” 

“Well, you better get to it.” 

“Love you, Papa!” 

“Love you too.” I hung up, and just like every time I ended a conversation with my daughter, regret washed over me. I wanted us to be together again so badly, it was a constant ache.  

“How old is your little girl?” Emma asked me softly. 

“Eight.” 

She nodded. “You’re a good father.” 

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t know about that. I keep failing her.” 

“But you love her. Enough to try to be a better man.” She reached out and gently traced my tattoo again, this time her touch was like an electric current tingling across my skin. “That’s how I knew we could trust you.” 

As the miles slipped past, I found myself telling her everything: about Milah, and Alice, and the accident. In turn, she told me about losing her parents and how Ingrid had stepped in wholeheartedly. She told me how their favorite family activity was a run-down local amusement park where Ingrid taught them how to beat every single carnival game. How she read every single Harry Potter book out loud to them in front of the fire on winter nights. And as the truck’s wheels ate up the miles through Colorado and into Utah, I won’t say I fell in love with her, or even that I started to fall in love, only that I began to think that perhaps I could. And that was something I had thought was impossible since I lost Milah.  

 


	26. Priceless: Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This is where things start to get dark, just to warn everyone. Yet, like the movie, I’m trying to also deal with the subject matter sensitively. If you would like more details on the content of this fic before you read it, you can always private message me on tumblr (same url). But just know that I don’t like stories without hope, so there is light at the end of the tunnel, it’s just . . . we’re at the beginning of the dark tunnel. 
> 
> * Much thanks to @xhookswenchx for her beta skills and for helping me with Killian’s characterization in this chapter particularly. There is so much in this fic that is outside my comfort zone, and I so appreciate your encouragement!

It sounds strange to say that the lights of Las Vegas were breathtaking, but they were. That night, standing there overlooking the city, I felt like a character in a fantasy novel at the end of a long trek. The relieved sigh from Emma next to me made me think that she felt it more deeply than I did. She had crossed an ocean, then a continent, and finally her journey was over. As I watched her, illuminated by the headlights of the truck, her blonde hair blown by the wind, I yearned for her to find that better future she had mentioned. On the other side of me, Anna practically vibrated with excited energy, her hands clasped beneath her chin.  

“You’re supposed to get a picture,” Emma reminded me. 

“Oh, right.” I fumbled for the phone in my pocket. “Would you mind?” I asked, handing it to her.  

“Sure.” 

I tried to pose somewhat naturally, something that felt a little odd all alone on that hilltop. I had never been the selfie type. Emma lifted the phone, smiling at me in an amused sort of way. The flash went off, and she frowned at the image on the screen. 

“That bad huh?” I chuckled nervously.  

“No, I had it on selfie mode. Here, let me try again.” 

I moved back into my stiff pose as she snapped another, then another, and another in rapid succession. Then she stepped forward and handed the phone back to me.  

“I hope one of those is good,” she said with a shrug.  

“Thanks.” 

Her sister Elsa, who was leaning next to the truck beside Liam, called for her. She turned to go with one last smile my way, her gaze scrutinizing me head to toe. I felt myself blush and hoped she couldn’t see it in the dark.  

Once she was a few feet away, I scrolled through the photos she had taken. My smile seemed nervous, at least to me, but it wasn’t as bad as I had been expecting, and Alice would be able to see the lights of the city in the background. My finger froze and my breath caught at the next picture. It was the accidental selfie Emma had taken. Her hair was in motion, fluttering in the breeze. Her eyes weren’t looking into the camera, but beyond it, at me. With the dark night all around her, she looked like some sort of angelic visitation with her light skin, golden hair, and sparkling eyes. Her mouth was turned up in a teasing smile, directed at me. In short, she was breathtaking.  

I bit my lip, my finger hovering over the delete function. It seemed like a violation somehow to keep her photo, and yet . . . 

“Killian!” 

The way I jumped at Liam’s voice you would have thought I was looking at porn. I quickly closed my phone’s screen and pocketed it. 

“Get over here,” Liam continued, waving me over.  

The passenger door of the truck’s cab was open, and Elsa sat there with her feet dangling outside. I frowned when I noticed she was slumping against the seat. The back of Liam’s hand was pressed to her forehead.  

“She’s burning up,” he told me.  

Elsa waved her hand weakly as if to brush off Liam’s concern. “We’re almost there. I’ll be fine, really.” 

Liam frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well we can’t have her in the back of the truck like we planned. Not like this.” 

I glanced at Emma, and the alarm in her eyes matched mine. “But I wasn’t supposed to open the back.” 

“Are you serious?” Liam practically shouted. “She’s sick!” 

“Liam,” Elsa said, reaching out to grasp his forearm. I noticed that her voice sounded weak. “It’s okay. It’s only another fifteen minutes or so. Right?” 

Everyone looked to me, and I swallowed hard. Dread had seemed to be brewing just below the surface of my mind the closer we got to our destination, but I pushed it aside. “Yes, give or take.” 

“We can’t let them know you interacted with us,” Emma added. 

“We’ll take care of her,” Anna vowed as she put an arm around her oldest sister. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” I told them.  

Elsa started to inch her way out of the cab, practically sagging against Liam’s chest when he reached out to assist her. Nevertheless, she stood tall once her feet touched the ground. She stepped away from Liam and grasped both of my hands in both of hers.  

“No apology necessary. You have gone above and beyond for us.” 

My eyes darted away from her earnest expression. The three of them deserved so much more from me. When I thought of how far I had driven with them locked in the back, in utter darkness, it made me feel ill.  There was nothing else to be done, however, and Liam and I helped the three women into the back of the truck once again. I could barely make out their figures in the dark as I shut the door. The sound of the bar sliding into place seemed to echo in the vastness of the desert. 

******************************************************** 

There was an unmarked van in the parking lot of the Staylight Motel when I pulled in. As I parked the box truck, two men got out of a black Cadillac. The driver had stringy gray hair that reached his shoulders, and he wore a nice three-piece suit. He walked with a limp, leaning on a gold tipped cane. The man with him was younger and more casually dressed, his brown hair slightly disheveled. He gripped several purple carnations in one hand.  

I glanced nervously at Liam as we excited the truck. We stood side by side as the men neared, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam settle into his protective stance, arms crossed, chin tilted up slightly. I pressed my eyes closed for a brief moment, praying that nothing would go sideways.  

“I take it there were no difficulties in the transportation?” the older man asked, forgoing any introductions.  

I nodded. “No problems at all.” 

“You must be Mr. Gold,” my brother muttered.  

A smile slid across the man’s face. I couldn’t help finding it slightly sinister. “Yes. And you must be the big brother who insisted on babysitting.” 

Mr. Gold turned his gaze back to me then, a challenge in his eyes. I met him with a confident gaze.  

“Liam doesn’t expect any additional pay, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, then.” Gold gave the man beside him a curt nod, and the younger one headed to the back of the truck. My heart began to hammer in my chest. Gold reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out an envelope fat with bills. Before he could hand it to me, the other man’s voice called out. 

“Dad, you better get over here. The lock and bolt is busted.” 

Gold raised one eyebrow at me. “Really?” He hobbled over to his son, and Liam and I followed nervously. He reached out with one hand to inspect the lock, then leveled a gaze on me. 

I swallowed and licked at my lips before answering. “We had a little . . . problem. I fell asleep and went off the road. But the girls were okay, and we didn’t -” 

Gold raised a hand and cut me off with a brief chuckle. “Couldn’t resist temptation, eh lads? Don’t worry. It happens.” With that, he shoved the envelope at my chest. Then he nodded at his son. “Neal. Continue.” 

Neal pulled up the rolling door, and Emma, Elsa, and Anna came forward. I held my breath again, praying they wouldn’t notice how new their dresses were or how clean they were for the traveling conditions. Neal reached out a hand to assist each of them out of the truck.  

“Welcome to the States, ladies,” he said, handing each a purple carnation. The way his eyes raked each one up and down caused my stomach to turn, especially when his gaze landed on little Anna.  

“Something’s not right here,” Liam whispered in my ear, and I knew he was right.  

Neal’s fingertips danced along Anna’s upper arm, and my brother’s arm shot out before I even knew what was happening. He grasped Neal’s wrist, stepping between him and the young girl. 

“Where are you taking them?” Liam demanded. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw three burly men exit the unmarked van. Two of them grasped Emma and Elsa by the arms and rushed them to the van. 

“Killian?” Emma asked, her voice wavering with a bit of alarm. 

“Don’t touch them like that!” I shouted, lunging at the man yanking on Emma.  

Everything after that happened so fast, I could never remember what event led to the next. All I knew was that when I collided with the man holding Emma, he lost his grip on her. She pummeled him, the purple carnation Neal had given her falling to the asphalt. There were shouts, I saw Elsa practically flung into the van as she shouted Liam’s name, and Anna screamed. 

But the loudest sound was the cocking of a gun.  

I turned towards the sound and received a kick to the stomach for my distraction. Crumpled on the asphalt, I looked up to see a gun pointed at my brother’s temple. He held Anna in a brotherly half-embrace, and his eyes found mine. In them, I could see resignation.  

“Let go of him or I pull the trigger,” the thug instructed Anna. 

With a sob, she relinquished her hold on my brother. Neal took her by both elbows and dragged her to the van. I lurched to my feet, but the man with the gun stopped me. 

“I’ll blow his fuckin brains out!” he shouted.  

Chest heaving, my hands fisted at my sides, I froze where I was. All I could do was watch the girls’ terrified expressions as the van door slid shut. It pulled out of the parking lot, the thug’s gun still at my brother’s temple. Gold limped closer, his cane beating a staccato rhythm on the pavement. His eyes pierced me, cold and calculating. 

“You’re lucky I’m still going to pay you.” 

Neal and his father got back into the Cadillac, pausing only long enough for their hired gun to jump in the backseat before they pealed out of the parking lot. A sob choked my throat as I fell to my knees on the hard ground. There, crushed into the asphalt, were the broken remains of Emma’s carnation.  

“Liam,” I gasped, as tears streamed down my face, “what have I done?” 


End file.
